JACOB  TODK^MGEE  MEMOMAL 


cht 


Copyright,  1801,  1893, 
By  I-ittle,  Bkown,  and  Company. 


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University  Press: 
John  Wilson  and  Son,  Cambridge,  U.S.A. 


LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 


CHAPTER  I. 

CAPTAIN    EOQUEFINETTE. 

On  the  22d  of  March,  in  the  year  of  our  Lord  1718,  a 
young  cavalier  of  high  bearing,  about  twenty-six  or  twenty- 
eight  years  of  age,  mounted  on  a  pure-bred  Spanish 
charger,  was  waiting,  toward  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning, 
at  that  end  of  the  Pont  Neuf  which  abuts  on  the  Quai  de 
l'Ecole.  He  was  so  upright  and  firm  in  his  saddle  that 
one  might  have  imagined  him  to  have  been  placed  there 
as  a  sentinel  by  the  lieutenant-general  of  police,  Messire 
Voyer  d'Argenson.  After  waiting  about  half  an  hour, 
during  which  time  he  impatiently  examined  the  clock  of 
the  Samaritaine,  his  glance,  wandering  till  then,  appeared 
to  rest  with  satisfaction  on  an  individual  who,  coming 
from  the  Place  Dauphine,  turned  to  the  right  and  ad- 
vanced toward  him. 

The  man  who  thus  attracted  the  attention  of  the  young 
chevalier  was  a  powerfully  built  fellow  of  five  feet  ten, 
wearing,  instead  of  a  peruke,  a  forest  of  his  own  black 
hair,  slightly  grizzled,  dressed  in  a  manner  half  bourgeois, 
half  military,  ornamented  with  a  shoulder-knot  which  had 
once  been  crimson,  but  from  exposure  to  sun  and  rain  had 
become  of  a  dirty  orange-color.     He  was  armed  with  a 


428221 


a  .'•\Tfc"(&IYA5JER-J*HARMENTAL. 

long  sword  slung  in  a  belt,  which  bumped  ceaselessly 
against  the  calves  of  his  legs.  Finally,  he  wore  a  hat 
which  once  had  been  adorned  with  a  plume  and  with  lace, 
and  which  —  in  remembrance,  no  doubt,  of  its  past  splen- 
dor —  its  owner  had  tipped  so  far  over  his  left  ear  that  it 
seemed  as  if  it  could  be  kept  in  place  only  by  a  miracle  of 
equilibrium.  There  was  altogether  in  the  countenance 
and  in  the  carriage  and  bearing  of  the  man  (who  seemed 
from  forty  to  forty-five  years  of  age,  and  who  advanced 
swaggering  and  keeping  the  middle  of  the  road,  curling 
his  mustache  with  one  hand,  and  with  the  other  signing 
to  the  carriages  to  give  place)  such  a  character  of  insolent 
carelessness  that  the  cavalier  who  watched  him  smiled 
involuntarily  as  he  murmured  to  himself,  "I  believe  this 
is  my  man." 

In  view  of  this  probability,  he  rode  straight  up  to  the 
new-comer,  with  the  evident  intention  of  speaking  to  him. 
The  latter,  though  he  evidently  did  not  know  the  cavalier, 
seeing  that  he  was  going  to  address  him,  advanced  his 
right  foot  in  the  third  position,  and  waited,  one  hand  on 
his  sword  and  the  other  on  his  mustache,  to  hear  what 
the  person  who  was  coming  up  had  to  say  to  him. 

As  the  man  with  the  orange  ribbon  had  foreseen,  the 
young  cavalier  stopped  his  horse  near  him,  and  touching 
his  bat,  " Monsieur,"  said  he,  "I  think  I  may  conclude, 
from  your  appearance  and  manner,  that  you  are  a  gentle- 
man; am  I  mistaken1?" 

"  No,  palsambleu  / "  replied  he  to  whom  this  strange 
question  was  addressed,  touching  his  hat  in  his  turn.  "I 
am  delighted  that  my  appearance  speaks  so  well  for  me, 
for  however  improbable  it  may  seem  to  you  that  the  title 
should  be  mine,  you  may  call  me  captain." 

u  I  am  enchanted  to  find  that  you  are  a  soldier,  Mon- 
said  the  chevalier,  bowing  again.      "It  gives  me 


CAPTAIN  ROQUEFINETTE.  3 

the  greater  assurance  that  you  are  incapable  of  leaving  a 
brave  man  in  distress." 

"  He  is  welcome,  provided  always  the  brave  man  has 
no  need  of  my  purse ;  for  I  confess  frankly  that  I  have 
just  left  my  last  crown  in  a  cabaret  on  the  Port  de  la 
Tournelle." 

"  Nobody  wants  your  purse,  Captain  ;  on  the  contrary, 
I  beg  you  to  believe  that  mine  is  at  your  disposal." 

"  To  whom  have  I  the  honor  to  speak  ? "  asked  the 
captain,  visibly  touched  by  this  reply ;  "  and  in  what  can 
I  oblige  you  % " 

"  I  am  the  Baron  Rene  de  Valef,"  replied  the  cavalier. 

"  I  think,"  interrupted  the  captain,  "  that  I  knew,  in 
the  Flemish  wars,  a  family  of  that  name." 

"  It  was  my  family ;  we  are  from  Liege."  The  two 
speakers  exchanged  bows. 

"You  must  know,  then,"  continued  the  Baron  de  Yalef, 
"  that  the  Chevalier  Raoul  d'Harmental,  one  of  my  most 
intimate  friends,  last  night  in  my  company  engaged  in  a 
quarrel,  which  is  to  be  finished  this  morning  by  a  meeting. 
Our  adversaries  were  three,  and  we  but  two.  I  went  thi* 
morning  to  the  houses  of  the  Marquis  de  Gace  and  the 
Comte  de  Surgis,  but  unfortunately  neither  of  them  had 
spent  the  night  in  his  bed ;  so  as  the  affair  could  not 
wait,  since  I  must  set  out  in  two  hours  for  Spain,  and  as 
we  absolutely  require  a  second,  or  rather  a  third,  I  in- 
stalled myself  on  the  Pont  Neuf  with  the  intention  of 
addressing  the  first  gentleman  who  should  approach.  You 
came,  and  I  addressed  myself  to  you." 

"And  you  have  done  right,  pardieu /  rest  satisfied, 
Baron,  I  am  your  man.  What  hour  is  fixed  for  the 
meeting  1 " 

"  Half-past  nine  this  morning." 

"  "Where  will  it  take  place  ?  " 


4  LE  CHEVALIER  D'lIARMENTAL. 

"  At  the  Maillot  gate." 

"  Diable  I  there  is  no  time  to  lose.  But  you  are  on 
horseback  and  I  am  on  foot ;  how  shall  we  manage 
that?" 

"  There  is  a  way,  Captain." 

"What  is  it?" 

"  It  is  that  you  should  do  me  the  honor  of  mounting 
behind  me." 

"  Willingly,  Baron." 

"  I  warn  you,  however,"  added  the  young  cavalier,  with 
a  slight  smile,  "that  my  horse  is  rather  spirited." 

"  Oh,  I  know  him  ! "  said  the  captain,  drawing  back  a 
step,  and  looking  at  the  beautiful  animal  with  the  eye  of 
a  connoisseur ;  "  if  I  am  not  mistaken,  he  was  bred  be- 
tween the  mountains  of  Grenada  and  the  Sierra  Morena. 
I  rode  a  horse  like  that  at  Almanza ;  and  I  have  often 
made  him  lie  down  like  a  sheep  when  he  wanted  to  carry 
me  off  at  a  gallop,  only  by  pressing  him  with  my  knees." 

"  You  reassure  me.     To  horse,  then,  Captain." 

"  Here  I  am,  Baron." 

And  without  using  the  stirrup,  which  the  young  cava- 
lier left  free  for  him,  with  a  single  bound  the  captain 
sprang  onto  the  croup. 

The  baron  had  spoken  truly ;  his  horse  was  not  accus- 
tomed to  so  heavy  a  load,  and  at  once  he  attempted  to  get 
rid  of  it.  Neither  had  the  captain  exaggerated,  and  the 
animal  soon  found  that  he  had  to  do  with  those  who  were 
stronger  than  he  ;  so  that  after  a  few  leaps,  which  had  no 
other  effect  than  to  show  to  the  passers-by  the  address  of 
the  two  cavaliers,  he  became  obedient,  and  went  at  a 
swinging  trot  down  the  Quai  de  l'Ecole,  which  at  that 
time  was  nothing  but  a  wharf,  crossed  at  the  same  pace 
the  Quai  du  Louvre  and  the  Quai  des  Tuileries,  through 
the  gate  of  the  Conference,  and  leaving  on  the  left  the 


CAPTAIN  ROQUEFINETTE.  5 

road  to  Versailles,  threaded  the  great  avenue  of  the  Champs 
IDlysees,  which  now  leads  to  the  triumphal  Arc  de  l'Etoile. 
Arrived  at  the  Pont  d'Antin,  the  Baron  de  Valef  slack- 
ened his  horse's  pace  a  little,  for  he  found  that  he  had 
ample  time  to  arrive  at  the  Maillot  gate  at  the  appointed 
time. 

The  captain  profited  by  this  respite.  "  Now,  Monsieur," 
said  he,  "  may  I,  without  indiscretion,  ask  why  we  are 
going  to  fight  1  I  wish,  you  understand,  to  know  that,  in 
order  to  regulate  my  conduct  toward  my  adversary,  and 
to  judge  whether  it  is  worth  while  to  kill  him." 

"  That  is  only  fair,"  answered  the  baron ;  "  I  will  tell 
you  everything  as  it  occurred.  We  were  supping  last 
night  at  La  Fillon's.  Of  course  you  know  La  Fillon, 
Captain  1 " 

"  Pardieu  !  it  was  I  who  started  her  in  the  world,  in 
1705,  before  my  Italian  campaigns." 

"Well,"  replied  the  baron,  laughing,  "you  may  boast 
of  a  pupil J Vho  does  you  honor.  Briefly,  I  supped  there 
t§te-a-t§te  with  D'Harmental." 

"  Without  any  one  of  the  fair  sex  % " 

"  Oh,  mon  Dieu  !  yes.  I  must  tell  you  that  D'Harmental 
is  a  kind  of  Trappist,  only  going  to  La  Fillon's  for  fear  of 
the  reputation  of  not  going  there  ;  loving  only  one  woman 
at  a  time,  and  in  love  for  the  moment  with  the  little 
D'Averne,  the  wife  of  the  lieutenant  of  the  guards." 

"  Very  good  !  " 

"  We  were  there,  chatting,  when  we  heard  a  merry 
party  enter  the  room  next  to  ours.  As  our  conversation 
did  not  concern  anybody  else,  we  kept  silence,  and  with- 
out intending  it,  heard  the  conversation  of  our  neighbors. 
Now  see  what  chance  is  !  our  neighbors  talked  of  the  only 
thing  which  we  ought  not  to  have  heard." 

"  Of  the  chevalier's  mistress  2 " 


C  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

"  Exactly.  At  the  first  words  of  their  discourse  which 
reached  me,  I  rose  and  tried  to  get  Raoul  away ;  but  in- 
stead  of  following  me,  he  put  his  hand  on  my  shoulder, 
and  made  me  sit  down  again.  '  Then  Philippe  is  making 
love  to  the  little  D'Averne  1 '  said  one.  '  Since  the  fete 
of  the  Marechale  d'Estrees,  where,  disguised  as  Venus,  she 
gave  him  a  sword-belt  with  some  verses,  in  which  she 
compared  liirn  to  Mars/  replied  another  voice.  '  But  that 
is  eight  days  ago,'  said  a  third.      '  Yes,'  replied  the  first. 

•  Oh  !  she  made  a  kind  of  resistance,  either  because  she 
really  held  by  poor  D'Harmental,  or  because  she  knew 
that  the  regent  likes  only  those  who  resist  him.  At  last, 
this  morning,  in  exchange  for  a  basketful  of  flowers  and 
jewels,  she  has  consented  to  receive  his  Highness  this 
evening.' " 

"  Ah  !  "  said  the  captain,  "  I  begin  to  understand ;  the 
chevalier  got  angry  1 " 

"  Exactly.  Instead  of  laughing,  as  you  or  I  would  have 
done,  and  profiting  by  this  circumstance  to  get  back  his 
brevet  of  colonel,  which  was  taken  from  him  under  pre- 
text of  economy,  D'Harmental  became  so  pale  that  I 
thought  he  was  going  to  faint;  then,  approaching  the 
partition,  and   striking  with  his   fist,  to  insure   silence, 

*  Gentlemen,'  said  he, '  I  am  sorry  to  contradict  you,  but 
the  one  who  said  that  Madame  d'Averne  had  granted  a 
rendezvous  to  the  regent,  or  to  any  other,  told  a  lie.' 

" '  It  is  I,  Monsieur,  who  said  it,  and  who  repeat  it,' 
said  a  voice  on  the  other  side ;  '  and  if  in  that  there  is 
anything  displeasing  to  you,  my  name  is  Lafare,  captain 
of  the  guards.'  'And  mine,  Fargy,'  said  a  second  voice. 
'  And  mine,  Ravanne,'  said  a  third.  *  Very  well,  gentle- 
men,' replied  D'Harmental ;  '  to-morrow,  from  nine  to  half- 
past,  at  the  Maillot  gate.'  And  he  sat  down  again  opposite 
me.     They  talked  of  something  else,  and  we  finished  our 


CAPTAIN  ROQUEFINETTE.  7 

supper.  That  is  the  whole  affair,  Captain,  and  you  now 
know  as  much  as  I." 

The  captain  uttered  a  kind  of  exclamation  which  seemed 
to  say,  "  This  is  not  very  serious ;  "  but  in  spite  of  this 
semi-disapprobation  of  the  chevalier's  sensitiveness,  he 
resolved  none  the  less  to  support,  to  the  best  of  his  power, 
the  cause  of  which  he  had  so  unexpectedly  been  made  the 
champion,  however  defective  that  cause  might  appear  to 
him  in  principle  ;  besides,  even  had  he  wished  to  draw 
back,  it  was  now  too  late.  They  arrived  at  the  Maillot 
gate,  and  a  young  cavalier,  who  appeared  to  be  waiting, 
and  who  had  from  a  distance  perceived  the  baron  and  the 
captain,  put  his  horse  to  the  gallop,  and  approached 
rapidly ;   this  was  the  Chevalier  d'Harmental. 

"  My  dear  Chevalier,"  said  the  Baron  de  Valef,  grasping 
his  hand,  "  permit  me,  in  default  of  an  old  friend,  to  pre- 
sent to  you  a  new  one.  Neither  Surgis  nor  Gace  was  at 
home.  I  met  this  gentleman  on  the  Pont  Neuf,  and  told 
him  our  embarrassment,  and  he  offered  himself  to  free  us 
from  it,  with  the  greatest  good-will." 

"  I  am  doubly  grateful  to  you,  then,  my  dear  Valef," 
replied  the  chevalier,  casting  on  the  captain  a  look  which 
betrayed  a  slight  astonishment.  "  And  to  you,  Monsieur," 
he  continued,  "  I  must  excuse  myself  for  making  your 
acquaintance  by  mixing  you  up  thus  with  an  unpleasant 
affair.  But  you  will  afford  me  one  day  or  another  an 
opportunity  to  return  your  kindness,  and  I  hope  and  beg 
that,  an  opportunity  arising,  you  will  dispose  of  me  as  I 
have  disposed  of  you." 

"  Well  said,  Chevalier,"  replied  the  captain,  leaping  to 
the  ground  ;  "  and  in  speaking  thus,  you  might  lead  me 
to  the  end  of  the  world.  The  proverb  is  right,  —  '  It  is 
only  mountains  that  don't  meet.'  " 

"  Who  is  this  original  % "  asked  D'Harmental  of  Valef, 


8  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

while  the  captain  stamped  the  calls  with  his  right  foot,  to 
stretch  his  legs. 

"  Faith,  I  don't  know,"  said  Valef ;  "  but  I  know  that 
we  should  be  in  a  great  difficulty  without  him.  Some 
poor  officer  of  fortune,  without  doubt,  whom  the  peace  has 
thrown  aside  like  so  many  others  ;  but  we  will  judge  him 
by-and-by,  by  his  works." 

"  Well ! "  said  the  captain,  becoming  animated  with  the 
exercise  he  was  taking,  "  where  are  our  coxcombs  1  I  find 
myself  in  good  trim  this  morning." 

"  When  I  came  up  to  you,"  replied  D'Harmental,  "  they 
had  not  arrived,  but  I  perceived  at  the  end  of  the  avenue 
a  kind  of  hired  carriage,  which  will  serve  as  an  excuse  if 
they  are  late ;  and  indeed,"  added  the  chevalier,  pulling 
out  a  beautiful  watch  set  with  diamonds,  "  they  are  not 
behind  time,  for  it  is  hardly  half-past  nine." 

"  Let  us  go,"  said  Valef,  dismounting  and  throwing  the 
reins  to  D'Harmental's  valet ;  "  for  if  they  arrive  at  the 
rendezvous  while  we  stand  gossiping  here,  it  will  appear 
as  though  we  had  kept  them  waiting." 

"You  are  right,"  said  D'Harmental ;  and  dismounting, 
he  advanced  toward  the  entrance  of  the  wood,  followed 
by  his  two  companions. 

"  Will  you  not  take  anything,  gentlemen  1 "  said  the 
landlord  of  the  restaurant,  who  was  standing  at  his  door, 
waiting  for  custom. 

"Yes,  Maitre  Durand,"  replied  D'Harmental,  who 
wished,  in  order  that  they  might  not  be  disturbed,  to 
make  it  appear  as  if  they  had  come  for  an  ordinary  walk, 
"  breakfast  for  three.  We  are  going  to  take  a  turn  in  the 
avenue,  and  then  we  shall  come  back."  And  he  let  three 
louis  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  innkeeper. 

The  captain  saw  the  glitter  of  the  three  gold-pieces  one 
after  another,  and  quickly  reckoned  up  what  might  be 


CAPTAIN   ROQUEFINETTE.  9 

had  at  the  "  Bois  de  Boulogne  "  for  seventy-two  francs ; 
but  as  he  knew  with  whom  he  had  to  deal,  he  judged 
that  a  little  advice  from  him  would  not  be  useless.  Con- 
sequently, in  his  turn  approaching  the  maitre  d'hotel, 
"  Listen,  my  friend,"  said  he ;  "  you  know  that  I  under- 
stand the  price  of  things,  and  that  no  one  can  deceive  me 
about  the  amount  of  a  tavern  bill.  Let  the  wines  be  good 
and  varied,  and  let  the  breakfast  be  copious,  or  I  will 
break  your  head  !     Do  you  understand  1 " 

"  Be  easy,  Captain,"  answered  Durand,  "  it  is  not  a  cus- 
tomer like  you  whom  I  would  try  to  deceive." 

"All  right;  I  have  eaten  nothing  for  twelve  hours. 
Arrange  accordingly." 

The  hotel-keeper  bowed,  as  knowing  what  that  meant, 
and  went  back  to  his  kitchen,  beginning  to  think  that  he 
had  in  hand*  a  less  profitable  aifair  than  at  first  he  had 
hoped  it  would  be. 

As  to  the  captain,  after  making  a  final  gesture  of  warn- 
ing, half  amicable,  half  threatening,  he  quickened  his  pace, 
and  rejoined  the  chevalier  and  the  baron,  who  had  stopped 
to  wait  for  him. 

The  chevalier  was  not  wrong  in  regard  to  the  hired  car- 
riage. At  the  turn  of  the  first  alley  he  saw  his  three 
adversaries  getting  out  of  it.  They  were,  as  we  have 
already  said,  the  Marquis  de  Lafare,  the  Comte  de  Fargy, 
and  the  Chevalier  de  Ravanne. 

Our  readers  will  now  permit  us  to  give  them  some  brief 
details  in  regard  to  these  three  personages,  who  will  often 
reappear  in  the  course  of  this  history.  Lafare,  the  best 
known  of  the  three,  thanks  to  the  poetry  which  he  has 
left  behind  him,  was  a  man  about  thirty -six  or  thirty- 
eight  years  of  age,  of  a  frank  and  open  countenance,  and 
an  inexhaustible  gayety  and  good-humor,  —  always  ready 
to  engage  with  all  comers,  at  table,  at  play,  or  at  arms,  and 


10  LE  CHEVALIEft  D'HARMENTAL. 

that  without  malice  or  bitterness ;  much  run  after  by  the 
fair  sex,  and  much  beloved  by  the  regent,  who  had  named 
him  his  captain  of  the  Guards,  and  who,  during  the  ten 
years  in  which  he  had  admitted  him  into  his  intimacy, 
had  found  him  his  rival  sometimes,  but  his  faithful  ser- 
vant always.  Thus  the  prince,  who  had  the  habit  of 
giving  nicknames  to  all  his  boon  companions,  as  well  as 
to  his  mistresses,  never  called  him  by  any  other  than 
"  bon  enfant."  Nevertheless,  for  some  time  the  popularity 
of  Lafare,  established  as  it  was  by  favoring  antecedents, 
was  fast  diminishing  among  the  ladies  of  the  court  and 
the  girls  of  the  opera.  There  was  a  report  current  that 
he  was  going  to  be  so  ridiculous  as  to  become  a  well- 
behaved  man.  It  is  true  that  some,  in  order  to  preserve 
for  him  his  reputation,  whispered  that  this  apparent 
conversion  had  no  other  cause  than  the  jealousy  of 
Mademoiselle  de  Conti,  daughter  of  the  duchess,  and 
granddaughter  of  the  great  Conde,  who,  it  was  said,  hon- 
ored the  regent's  captain  of  the  Guards  with  a  particular 
affection.  His  alliance  with  the  Due  de  Richelieu,  who 
was  supposed  to  be  the  lover  of  Mademoiselle  de  Charo- 
lais,  gave  consistency  to  this  report. 

The  Cornte  de  Fargy,  generally  called  "  Le  Beau  Fargy," 
by  a  substitution  of  the  title  which  he  had  received  from 
Nature  for  that  which  his  fathers  had  left  him,  was  re- 
ferred to,  as  his  name  indicates,  as  the  handsomest  man 
of  his  time,  which  in  that  age  of  gallantry  imposed  obli- 
gations from  which  he  had  never  recoiled,  and  in  regard 
to  which  he  had  always  acquitted  himself  with  honor. 
Indeed,  it  was  impossible  to  have  a  more  perfect  figure 
than  his.  At  once  strong  and  graceful,  supple  and  active, 
he  seemed  to  unite  all  the  different  perfections  of  the 
heroes  of  romance  of  that  time.  Add  to  this  a  charming 
head,  combining  the  most  opposite  styles  of  beauty,  — that 


CAPTAIN   ROQTJEFINETTE.  11 

is  to  say,  black  hair  and  blue  eyes,  strongly  marked 
features,  and  a  complexion  like  that  of  a  woman.  Add 
also  wit,  loyalty,  and  the  greatest  courage,  and  you  will 
have  an  idea  of  the  high  consideration  which  Le  Fargy 
must  have  enjoyed  in  the  society  of  that  mad  period. 

As  to  the  Chevalier  de  Ravanne,  who  has  left  us  such 
strange  memoirs  of  his  early  life  that  in  spite  of  their 
authenticity  one  is  tempted  to  believe  them  apocryphal, 
he  was  still  but  a  youth  ;  he  was  rich  and  of  noble  birth, 
who  entered  into  life  by  a  golden  door,  and  ran  into  all 
its  pleasures  with  the  fiery  imprudence  and  eagerness  of 
youth.  He  carried  to  excess,  as  so  many  do  at  eighteen, 
all  the  vices  and  all  the  virtues  of  his  day.  It  will  be 
easily  understood  how  proud  he  was  to  serve  as  second  to 
men  like  Lafare  and  Fargy  in  a  meeting  which  was  likely 
to  "  make  a  noise."    . 


12  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 


CHAPTER    II. 

THE   MEETING. 

As  soon  as  Lafare,  Fargy,  and  Ravanne  saw  their  adver- 
saries appear  at  the  corner  of  the  path,  they  walked  to 
meet  them.  Arrived  at  ten  paces  from  one  another,  they 
all  took  off  their  hats  and  bowed  with  that  elegant  polite- 
ness which  was  a  characteristic  of  the  aristocracy  of  the 
eighteenth  century,  and  advanced  some  steps  thus  bare- 
headed with  smiles  on  their  lips,  so  that  to  the  eyes  of 
the  passer-by,  ignorant  of  the  cause  of  their  encounter, 
they  would  have  appeared  like  friends  pleased  at  a  chance 
meeting. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  the  Chevalier  d'Harmental,  to  whom 
the  first  word  by  right  belonged,  "I  hope  that  neither 
you  nor  we  have  been  followed ;  but  it  is  getting  late,  and 
we  might  be  disturbed  here.  I  think  it  would  be  wise  in 
us  to  find  a  more  retired  spot,  where  we  shall  be  more  at 
ease  to  transact  the  little  business  which  we  have  in  hand." 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  Ravanne,  "  I  know  one  which  will 
suit  you,  a  hundred  yards  from  here,  —  a  true  cover." 

"  Come,  let  us  follow  the  child,"  said  the  captain ; 
"  innocence  leads  to  safety." 

Ravanne  turned  round,  and  examined  from  head  to 
foot  our  friend  with  the  yellow  ribbons.  "  If  you  are 
not  previously  engaged,  my  strapping  friend,"  said  he,  in 
a  bantering  tone,  "  I  claim  the  preference." 

"  Wait  a  moment,  Ravanne,"  interrupted  Lafare  ;  "  I 
have  some  explanations  to  give  to  Monsieur  d'Harmental." 


THE  MEETING.  13 

"  Monsieur  Lafare,"  replied  the  chevalier,  u  your  cour- 
age is  so  well  known  that  the  explanations  you  offer  me 
are  a  proof  of  delicacy  for  which  I  thank  you ;  but  these 
explanations  would  only  delay  us  uselessly,  and  we  have 
no  time  to  lose." 

"  Bravo  ! "  cried  Ravanne,  "  that  is  what  I  call  speak- 
ing, Chevalier.  As  soon  as  we  have  cut  each  other's 
throats,  I  hope  you  will  grant  me  your  friendship.  I 
have  heard  you  much  spoken  of  in  good  quarters,  and 
have  long  wished  to  make  your  acquaintance." 

"Come,  come,  Ravanne,"  said  Fargy,  "since  you  have 
undertaken  to  be  our  guide,  show  us  the  way." 

Ravanne  sprang  into  the  wood  like  a  young  fawn ;  his 
five  companions  followed.  At  the  end  of  about  ten  min- 
utes' walking,  during  which  the  six  adversaries  had  main- 
tained the  most  profound  silence,  either  from  fear  of  being 
heard  or  from  that  natural  feeling  which  in  the  moment  of 
danger  makes  a  man  reflective,  they  found  themselves  in 
the  midst  of  a  glade,  surrounded  on  all  sides  by  a  screen 
of  trees. 

"Well,  gentlemen,"  said  Ravanne,  looking  round  him 
in  a  satisfied  manner,  "  what  do  you  say  to  the  locality  1 " 

"  I  say  that  if  you  boast  of  having  discovered  it,"  said 
the  captain,  "you  are  a  strange  kind  of  Christopher 
Columbus.  If  you  had  told  me  it  was  here  you  were 
coming,  I  could  have  guided  you  with  my  eyes  shut." 

"  Well,"  replied  Ravanne,  "  we  will  try  to  give  you  a 
chance  to  leave  the  place  in  the  manner  in  which  you 
would  have  come  to  it." 

"It  is  with  you  that  my  business  lies,  Monsieur  de 
Lafare,"  said  D'Harmental,  throwing  his  hat  on  the 
ground. 

"  Yes,  Monsieur,"  replied  the  captain  of  the  guards,  fol- 
lowing the  example  of  the  chevalier ;  "  and  at  the  same 


14  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

time  I  feel  that  nothing  could  give  me  more  honor  and 
more  pain  than  a  meeting  with  you,  particularly  for  such 
a  cause."     ' 

D'Harmental  smiled  as  a  man  on  whom  this  flower  of 
politeness  was  not  lost,  but  his  only  answer  was  to  draw 
his  sword. 

"It  appears,  my  dear  Baron,"  said  Fargy,  addressing 
himself  to  Valef,  "  that  you  are  on  the  point  of  setting  out 
for  Spain." 

"  I  ought  to  have  left  last  night,  my  dear  Count,"  re- 
plied Valef ;  "  and  nothing  less  than  the  pleasure  I  prom- 
ised myself  in  seeing  you  this  morning  would  have 
detained  me  till  now,  so  important  is  my  errand." 

"  Diable  !  you  distress  me,"  said  Fargy,  drawing  ;  "  for 
if  I  should  have  the  misfortune  to  retard  you,  you  are  the 
man  to  bear  me  deadly  malice." 

"Not  at  all.  I  should  know  that  it  was  from  pure 
friendship,  my  dear  Count,"  replied  Valef.  "  So  do  your 
best,  I  beg,  and  at  once;  I  am  at  your  orders." 

"Come,  then,  Monsieur,"  said  Ravanne  to  the  captain, 
who  was  folding  his  coat  neatly  and  placing  it  by  his  hat, 
"  you  see  that  I  am  waiting  for  you." 

"  Do  not  be  impatient,  my  fine  fellow,"  said  the  old 
soldier,  continuing  his  preparations  with  the  deliberation 
natural  to  him.  "  One  of  the  most  essential  qualities  in 
arms  is  sang-froid.  I  was  like  you  at  your  age  j  but  after 
the  third  or  fourth  sword-blow  I  received,  I  understood 
that  I  was  on  the  wrong  road,  and  I  returned  to  the  right 
path.  There!"  he  added,  at  last  drawing  his  sword, 
which  we  have  said  was  of  great  length. 

"  Peste,  Monsieur !  "  said  Ravanne,  throwing  a  glance 
on  his  adversary's  weapon ;  "  what  a  charming  implement 
you  have  there  !  It  reminds  me  of  the  great  spit  in  my 
mother's  kitchen  j  and  I  am  grieved  that  I  did  not  order 


THE  MEETING.  15 

the  maitre  oV  hotel  to  bring  it  to  me,  as  a  match  to 
yours." 

"  Your  mother  is  a  worthy  woman,  and  her  kitchen  is  a 
good  one  ;  I  have  heard  both  spoken  of  with  great  praise, 
Monsieur  le  Chevalier,"  replied  the  captain,  with  an  almost 
paternal  manner.  "  I  should  be  grieved  to  take  you  from 
one  or  the  other  for  a  trifle  like  that  which  procures  me 
the  honor  of  crossing  swords  with  you.  Suppose,  then, 
that  you  are  only  taking  a  lesson  from  your  fencing- 
master,  and  keep  your  distance." 

The  recommendation  was  useless.  Ravanne  was  exas- 
perated by  his  adversary's  calmness,  to  which,  in  spite  of 
his  courage,  his  young  and  ardent  blood  did  not  allow 
him  to  attain.  He  attacked  the  captain  with  such  fury 
that  their  swords  engaged  at  the  hilt.  The  captain  made 
a  step  ba<ck. 

"  Ah,  you  give  ground,  my  tall  friend !  "  cried  Ravanne. 

"  To  give  ground  is  not  to  fly,  my  little  Chevalier,"  re- 
plied the  oaptain ;  "  that  is  an  axiom  of  the  art  which  I 
advise  you  to  consider.  Besides,  I  am  not  sorry  to  study 
your  play.  Ah,  you  are  a  pupil  of  Berthelot,  apparently ; 
he  is  a  good  master,  but  he  has  one  great  defect,  —  he 
does  n't  teach  how  to  parry.  Stay,  look  at  this,"  he  con- 
tinued, replying  by  a  thrust  in  seconde  to  a  straight  thrust; 
"  if  I  had  lunged,  I  should  have  spitted  you  like  a  lark." 

Ravanne  was  furious,  for  he  had  felt  on  his  side  the 
point  of  his  adversary's  sword,  which,  however,  touched 
him  so  lightly  that  he  might  have  taken  it  for  the  button 
of  a  foil.  His  anger  therefore  was  increased  by  the  con- 
viction that  he  owed  his  life  to  the  captain ;  and  his 
attacks  became  more  frequent  and  furious  than  ever. 

"  Stop,  stop  ! "  said  the  captain  ;  "  now  you  are  losing 
your  head  and  trying  to  blind  me.  Fie,  fie,  young  man  ! 
at  the  chest,  morbleu  /     Ah,  at  the  face  again  1  you  will 


16  LE  CHEVALIER   D'HARMENTAL. 

force  me  to  disarm  you.  Again  1  Go  and  pick  up  your 
sword,  young  man ;  and  come  back  hopping  on  one  leg  to 
calm  yourself."  And  with  a  sudden  twist  he  whipped 
Ravanne's  sword  out  of  his  hand,  and  sent  it  flying  some 
twenty  paces  from  him. 

This  time  Ravanne  profited  by  the  advice.  He  went 
slowly  to  pick  up  his  sword,  and  came  back  slowly  to  the 
captain  ;  but  the  young  man  was  as  pale  as  his  satin  vest, 
on  which  was  apparent  a  small  drop  of  blood.  "  You  are 
right,  Monsieur,"  said  he,  "  and  I  am  still  but  a  child  ; 
but  this  meeting  will,  I  hope,  help  to  make  a  man  of  me. 
A  few  more  passes,  if  you  please,  that  it  may  not  be  said 
you  have  had  all  the  honors."  And  he  put  himself  on 
guard. 

The  captain  was  right ;  the  chevalier  needed  only  to  be 
calm  to  be  a  formidable  adversary.  Thus,  at  the  first 
thrust  of  this  third  engagement,  the  captain  saw  that  he 
must  attend  solely  to  his  own  defence;  but  his  superiority 
in  the  art  of  fencing  was  too  decided  for  his  young  adver- 
sary to  obtain  any  advantage  over  him.  The  matter 
ended  as  it  was  easy  to  foresee.  The  captain  disarmed 
Ravanne  a  second  time  ;  but  this  time  he  went  and  picked 
up  the  sword  himself,  and  with  a  politeness  of  which  at 
first  one  might  have  supposed  him  incapable.  "  Monsieur 
le  Chevalier,"  said  he,  extending  his  hand  to  Ravanne, 
"  you  are  a  brave  young  man ;  but  believe  in  an  old  fre- 
quenter of  schools  and  taverns,  who  was  at  the  Flemish 
wars  before  you  were  born,  at  the  Italian  when  you  were 
in  your  cradle,  and  at  the  Spanish  while  you  were  a  page. 
Change  your  master.  Leave  Berthelot,  who  has  already 
taught  you  all  ho  knows,  and  take  Bois-Robert ;  and  may 
the  devil  fly  away  with  me  if  in  six  months  you  are  not 
as  good  a  fencer  as  myself!" 

"Thanks   for  your  lesson,  Monsieur,"   said  Ravanne, 


THE  MEETING.  17 

taking  the  hand  of  the  captain,  while  two  tears,  which  he 
could  not  restrain,  flowed  down  his  cheeks ;  "I  hope  it 
will  profit  me."  And  receiving  his  sword  from  the  cap- 
tain, he  did  what  the  latter  had  already  done  with  his,  — 
he  returned  it  to  its  scabbard. 

They  then  both  cast  their  eyes  on  their  companions  to 
see  how  they  were  faring.  The  combat  was  over.  Lafare 
was  seated  on  the  ground,  with  his  back  leaning  against  a 
tree.  He  had  been  run  through  the  body,  but  happily 
the  point  of  the  sword  had  struck  against  a  rib,  and  had 
glanced  along  the  bone,  so  that  the  wound  seemed  at  first 
worse  than  it  really  was ;  still  he  had  fainted,  the  shock 
had  been  so  violent.  D'Harmental  was  on  his  knees  be- 
fore him,  endeavoring  to  stanch  the  blood  with  his  hand- 
kerchief. Fargy  and  Valef  had  wounded  each  other  at 
the  same  moment.  One  was  struck  in  the  thigh,  the 
other  run  through  the  arm ;  both  had  apologized,  prom- 
ising to  be  friends  for  the  future. 

"  Look,  young  man,"  said  the  captain,  showing  Ravanne 
these  different  episodes  of  the  field  of  battle,  —  "  look  on 
that,  and  meditate.  There  is  the  blood  of  three  brave  gen- 
tlemen flowing,  —  probably  for  some  worthless  woman." 

"  Faith,  Captain,"  answered  Ravanne,  quite  calmed 
down,  "  I  believe  you  are  right,  and  that  you  are  the 
only  one  of  us  all  that  has  common-sense." 

At  that  moment  Lafare  opened  his  eyes  and  recognized 
D'Harmental  in  the  man  who  was  tending  him.  "  Cheva- 
lier," said  he,  "  take  a  friend's  advice  ;  send  me  a  surgeon 
whom  you  will  find  in  the  carriage,  and  whom  I  brought 
with  me  to  provide  against  accident.  Then  go  to  Paris  as 
fast  as  possible.  Show  yourself  to-night  at  the  opera 
ball,  and  if  they  ask  you  about  me,  say  that  it  is  a  week 
since  you  have  seen  me.  As  to  me,  you  may  be  entirely 
unconcerned.     Your  name  shall  not  pass  my  lips ;  and  if 

2 


18  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

you  get  into  any  unpleasant  discussion  with  the  police,  let 
me  know  at  once,  and  we  will  manage  so  that  the  affair 
shall  have  no  consequences." 

"  Thanks,  Monsieur  le  Marquis,"  answered  D'Harmen- 
tul ;  "  I  leave  you,  because  I  know  you  are  in  better 
hands  than  mine.  Otherwise,  believe  me,  nothing  should 
have  separated  me  from  you  until  I  had  seen  you  in 
your  bed." 

"  Pleasant  journey,  my  dear  Valef,"  said  Fargy  ;  "  for 
I  do  not  think  that  scratch  will  hinder  your  going.  On 
your  return,  do  not  forget  that  you  have  a  friend  at  No. 
14  Place  Louis-le-Grand." 

"  And  you,  my  dear  Fargy,  if  you  have  any  commission 
for  Madrid,  you  have  but  to  say  so,  and  you  may  rely 
upon  its  being  executed  with  the  exactitude  and  zeal  of  a 
true  comrade."  And  the  two  friends  shook  hands  as  if 
nothing  had  happened. 

"Adieu,  young  man,  adieu, "  said  the  captain  to 
Ravanne  ;  "  do  not  forget  the  advice  which  I  have  given 
you.  Give  up  Berthelot,  and  take  to  Bois-Robert.  Espe- 
cially be  calm,  give  ground  when  it  is  necessary,  parry  in 
time,  and  you  will  be  one  of  the  best  fencers  in  the  king- 
dom of  France.  My  implement  sends  its  compliments  to 
your  mother's  great  spit."  * 

Ravanne,  in  spite  of  his  presence  of  mind,  could  not 
find  anything  to  reply  to  the  captain;  he  turned  away 
With  a  bew,  and  went  to  Lafare,  who  of  the  two  wounded 
seemed  the  more  seriously  hurt. 

to  D'Harmental,  Valef,  and  the  captain,  they  rapidly 
gained  the  path,  where  they  found  the  coach,  and  inside, 
the  surgeon,  who  was  enjoying  a  nap.  D'Harmental  woke 
him,  and  showing  him  the  way  he  must  go,  told  him  that 
the  Marquis  de  Lafare  and  the  Comte  de  Fargy  had  need 
of  his  .services.     He  also  ordered  his  valet  to  dismount 


THE  MEETING.  19 

and  follow  the  surgeon  in  order  to  aid  him  ;  then,  turning 
toward  the  captain,  "  Captain,"  said  he,  "  I  do  not  think 
that  it  would  be  prudent  to  go  and  eat  the  breakfast 
which  we  have  ordered ;  therefore  receive  my  thanks  for 
the  assistance  you  have  rendered  me,  and  in  remembrance 
of  me,  as  it  seems  you  are  on  foot,  will  you  accept  one  of 
my  two  horses  1  You  can  take  either  of  them ;  they  are 
both  good,  and  neither  will  fail  you  if  you  have  need  to 
go  eight  or  ten  leagues  in  an  hour." 

"  Faith,  Chevalier,"  answered  the  captain,  casting  a  look 
on  the  horse  which  had  been  so  generously  offered  to  him, 
"  there  was  no  need  for  that ;  their  blood  and  their  purses 
are  things  which  gentlemen  lend  one  another  every  day. 
But  you  make  the  offer  with  so  good  a  grace  that  I  know 
not  how  to  refuse  you.  If  you  ever  have  need  of  me 
for  anything  whatever,  remember  that  I  am  at  your 
service." 

"  If  that  should  be  the  case,  where  should  I  find  you, 
Monsieur  1  "  said  D'Harmental,  smiling. 

"I  have  no  fixed  residence,  Chevalier,  but  you  may 
always  hear  of  me  by  going  to  La  Fillon's  and  asking 
for  La  Normande,  and  inquiring  of  her  for  Captain 
Roquefinette." 

And  as  the  two  young  men  mounted  their  horses,  the 
captain  also  mounted,  not  without  remarking  to  himself 
that  D'Harmental  had  left  him  the  best  horse  of  the  three. 
Then,  as  they  were  near  cross-roads,  each  one  took  his 
own  way  and  went  off  at  a  gallop. 

The  Baron  de  Valef  re-entered  by  the  Barriere  de  Passy, 
and  returned  straight  to  the  Arsenal  to  receive  the  com- 
missions of  the  Duchesse  du  Maine,  to  whose  establish- 
ment he  belonged,  and  left  the  same  day  for  Spain. 

Captain  Roquefinette  took  two  or  three  turns  round 
the  Bois  de  Boulogne,  walking,  trotting,  and  galloping,  in 


20  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

order  to  test  the  qualities  of  his  horse ;  and  having  satis- 
fied himself  that  it  was,  as  the  chevalier  had  told  him,  a 
fine  and  pure-blooded  animal,  he  returned  to  Durand's 
hotel,  where  he  ate,  all  alone,  the  breakfast  which  had 
been  ordered  for  three.  The  same  day,  he  took  his  horse 
to  a  dealer  and  sold  it  for  sixty  louis.  It  was  about  half 
what  it  was  worth  ;  but  one  must  be  prepared  to  make 
sacrifices  if  one  wishes  to  realize  promptly. 

As  to  the  Chevalier  d'Harmental,  he  took  the  road  to 
La  Muette,  entered  Paris  by  the  great  avenue  of  the 
Champs  Elysees,  and  on  returning  to  his  home  in  the 
Rue  de  Richelieu,  found  two  letters  waiting  for  him. 
One  of  these  letters  was  in  a  handwriting  so  well  known 
to  him  that  he  trembled  from  head  to  foot  as  he  looked 
at  it ;  and  after  having  taken  it  up  with  as  much  hesita- 
tion as  if  it  had  been  a  burning  coal,  he  opened  it  with  a 
hand  whose  shaking  betrayed  the  importance  he  attached 
to  it.     It  read  as  follows  :  — 

My  dear  Chevalier,  —  No  one  is  master  of  his  own  heart, 
— you  know  that  ;  and  it  is  one  of  the  misfortunes  of  our 
nature  not  to  be  able  to  love  the  same  person,  or  the  same 
thing,  for  a  long  time.  As  to  myself,  I  wish  at  least  to  have, 
beyond  other  women,  the  merit  of  never  deceiving  the  man 
who  has  been  my  ]over.  Do  not  come,  then,  at  your  accus- 
tomed hour,  for  you  will  be  told  that  I  am  not  at  home  ;  and 
I  am  so  scrupulous  that  I  would  not  willingly  endanger  the 
soul  of  a  valet  or  a  waiting-maid  by  making  them  tell  so 
great  a  lie. 

Adieu,  my  dear  Chevalier.  Do  not  retain  too  unkind  a 
remembrance  of  me,  and  behave  so  that  ten  years  hence  I  may 
still  think  what  I  think  now,  —  that  is  to  say,  that  you  are 
one  of  the  noblest  gentlemen  in  France. 

Sophie  d'Averne. 

"  Mori  Dieu  J  "  cried  D'Harmental,  striking  his  fist  on 
a  beautiful   buhl   table,   which  he  smashed  to  bits,    "if 


THE  MEETING.  21 

I   have   killed   that  poor   Lafare,  I   never  shall  forgive 
myself!" 

After  this  outburst,  which  comforted  him  a  little,  the 
poor  fellow  began  to  walk  backward  and  forward  between 
the  door  and  the  window  in  a  manner  that  showed  that 
he  needed  still  other  deceptions  of  the  same  kind  before 
he  could  attain  to  the  height  of  moral  philosophy  which 
the  faithless  beauty  preached  to  him.  Then,  after  taking 
several  turns,  he  saw  the  other  letter,  which  he  had  en- 
tirely forgotten,  lying  on  the  floor  ;  and  still  he  passed  by 
it  two  or  three  times,  regarding  it  with  a  supreme  indif- 
ference. At  last,  as  if  it  occurred  to  him  that  it  might 
divert  his  mind  from  the  other  letter,  he  picked  it  up  dis- 
dainfully, opened  it  slowly,  looked  at  the  writing,  which 
was  unknown  to  him,  searched  for  the  signature,  which 
was  wanting,  and  with  a  curiosity  quickened  by  that 
appearance  of  mystery,  read  as  follows :  — 

Chevalier,  —  If  you  have  in  your  mind  a  quarter  of  the 
romance,  or  in  your  heart  half  the  courage,  that  your  friends 
give  you  credit  for,  some  one  is  ready  to  offer  you  an  enter- 
prise worthy  of  you,  the  result  of  which  will  be  at  the  same 
time  to  avenge  you  on  the  man  you  hate  most  in  the  world, 
and  to  conduct  you  to  a  goal  more  brilliant  than  you  can  have 
hoped  for  in  your  wildest  dreams.  The  good  genius  who  will 
lead  you  thither  by  an  enchanted  road,  and  in  whom  you 
must  trust  entirely,  will  expect  you  this  evening  from  twelve 
to  two  o'clock  at  the  opera  ball.  If  you  go  there  unmasked, 
he  wTill  come  to  you  ;  if  you  come  masked,  you  will  know  him 
by  the  violet  ribbon  which  he  wTill  wear  on  his  left  shoulder. 
The  watch- word  is  "  Open  sesame  ! "  Pronounce  it  boldly, 
and  a  cavern  will  open  to  you  as  wonderful  as  that  of  Ali 
Baba. 

" Bravo ! "  said  D'Harmental ;  "if  the  genius  in  the 
violet  ribbons  keeps  only  half  his  promise,  by  my  honor 
he  has  found  his  man  ! " 


22  LE  CHEVALIEK  D'HAKMENTAL, 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE   CHEVALIER. 

The  Chevalier  Raoul  d'Harmental,  with  whom,  before  go- 
ing farther,  it  is  necessary  that  our  readers  make  a  better 
acquaintance,  was  the  last  scion  of  one  of  the  best  families 
of  Nivernais.  Although  that  family  never  had  played  an 
important  part  in  history,  yet  it  had  a  degree  of  renown 
which  it  had  acquired  partly  by  itself,  and  partly  by  its 
alliances.  The  father  of  the  chevalier,  the  Sire  Gaston 
d'Harmental,  had  come  to  Paris  in  1682,  and  had  proved 
his  genealogical  tree  from  the  year  1399, — an  heraldic 
achievement  which  would  have  given  some  trouble  to 
more  than  one  duke  and  peer.  In  another  direction,  his 
maternal  uncle,  Monsieur  de  Torigny,  before  being  named 
chevalier  of  the  order  in  the  promotion  of  1694,  had  con- 
fessed, in  order  to  get  his  sixteen  quarterings  recognized, 
that  the  best  part  of  his  scutcheon  was  that  of  the 
D'Harmentals,  with  whom  his  ancestors  had  been  allied 
for  three  hundred  years.  Here,  then,  was  enough  to 
satisfy  the  aristocratic  demands  of  the  age  of  which  we 
write. 

The  chevalier  was  neither  poor  nor  rich,  —  that  is  to 
say,  his  father,  when  he  died,  had  left  him  an  estate  in 
the  environs  of  Nevers,  which  brought  him  in  from 
twenty  thousand  to  twenty-five  thousand  francs  a  year. 
This  was  enough  to  enable  him  to  live  well  in  the  country; 
but  the  chevalier  had  received  an  excellent  education,  and 
was  very  ambitious,  therefore  he  had  at  his  majority,  in 


THE  CHEVALIER.  23 

1711,  left  his  home  for  Paris.  His  first  visit  was  to  the 
Comte  de  Torigny,  on  whom  he  counted  to  introduce  him 
at  court.  Unfortunately,  at  that  time  the  Comte  de 
Torigny  was  absent  from  home ;  but  as  he  remembered 
with  pleasure  the  family  of  D'Harmental,  he  recommended 
his  nephew  to  the  Chevalier  de  Villarceaux,  who  could 
refuse  nothing  to  his  friend  the  Comte  de  Torigny,  and 
took  the  young  man  to  Madame  de  Maintenon. 

Madame  de  Maintenon  had  one  good  quality,  —  she 
always  continued  to  be  the  friend  of  her  old  lovers.  She 
received  the  Chevalier  d'Harmental  graciously,  thanks  to 
the  old  recollections  which  recommended  him  to  her,  and 
some  days  afterward,  the  Marechal  de  Villars  coming  to 
pay  his  court  to  her,  she  spoke  a  few  such  pressing  words 
in  favor  of  her  young  protege,  that  the  marshal,  delighted 
to  find  an  opportunity  of  obliging  this  queen  in  partibus, 
replied  that  from  that  hour  he  attached  the  chevalier  to 
his  military  establishment,  and  would  take  care  to  offer 
him  every  occasion  to  justify  his  august  protectress's  good 
opinion  of  him. 

It  was  a  great  joy  to  the  chevalier  to  see  such  a  door 
opened  to  him.  The  coming  campaign  would  be  defini- 
tive. Louis  XIV.  had  arrived  at  the  last  period  of  his 
reign,  —  the  period  of  reverses.  Tallard  and  Marsin  had 
been  beaten  at  Hochstett,  Villeroi  at  Eamilies,  and  Villars 
himself,  the  hero  of  Friedlingen,  had  lost  the  famous 
battle  of  Malplaquet  against  Marlborough  and  Eugene. 
Europe,  kept  down  for  a  time  by  Colbert  and  Louvois, 
rose  against  France ;  and  the  situation  of  affairs  was 
desperate. 

The  king,  like  a  despairing  invalid  who  changes  his 
doctor  every  hour,  changed  ministers  every  day.  Every 
new  expedient  only  revealed  a  new  weakness.  France 
could   not    sustain   war,    and    could    not  obtain   peace. 


24  LE  CHEVALIER   D'HARMENTAL. 

Vainly  she  offered  to  abandon  Spain,  and  limit  her  fron- 
tier. This  was  not  sufficient  humiliation.  It  was  de- 
manded of  the  king  that  he  should  allow  the  hostile 
armies  to  cross  France,  in  order  to  chase  his  grandson 
from  the  throne  of  Spain  ;  and  also  that  he  should  give 
up,  as  pledges,  Canibray,  Metz,  La  Rochelle,  and  Bayonne, 
unless  he  preferred  dethroning  that  grandson  himself,  by 
open  force,   within  a  year. 

Such  were  the  conditions  on  which  a  truce  was  granted 
to  the  conqueror  of  Les  Dunes,  Senef,  Fleurus,  Steenkirk, 
and  of  La  Marsaille  ;  to  him  who  had  hitherto  held  in 
the  folds  of  his  royal  mantle  peace  and  war ;  to  him  wrho 
called  himself  the  distributer  of  crowns,  the  chastiser  of 
nations,  the  great,  the  immortal ;  to  him  in  whose  honor, 
during  the  last  half-century,  marbles  have  been  sculptured, 
bronzes  cast,  sonnets  written,  and  libations  of  flattery 
poured  out. 

Louis  XIV.  had  wept  in  full  council.  These  tears  had 
produced  an  army,  which  was  intrusted  to  Villars. 

Villars  marched  straight  to  the  enemy,  whose  camp  was 
at  Denain,  and  who  reposed  in  security  while  watching 
the  agony  of  France.  Never  had  greater  responsibility 
rested  on  one  head.  Villars  was  about  to  stake  the  sal- 
vation of  France   on  a  single   venture. 

The  allies  had  established  a  line  of  fortifications  be- 
tween Denain  and  Marchiennes,  which,  with  proud  anti- 
cipation, Albemarle  and  Eugene  called  the  high-road  to 
Paris.  Villars  resolved  to  take  Denain  by  surprise, 
and  Albemarle  conquered,  to  give  battle  to  Eugene. 
In  order  to  succeed  in  this  audacious  enterprise,  it  was 
necessary  to  deceive,  not  only  the  enemy's  army,  but  also 
his  own,  —  its  success  depending,  so  to  speak,  on  its 
impossibility. 

Villars  announced  openly  his  intention  of  forcing  the 


THE  CHEVALIER.  25 

lines  of  Landrecies.  One  night,  at  an  appointed  hour,  the 
whole  army  moves  off  in  the  direction  of  that  town. 
Suddenly  the  order  is  given  to  bear  to  the  left.  The 
engineers  throw  three  bridges  over  the  Scheldt.  Villars 
passes  over  the  river  without  obstacle,  throws  himself 
into  the  marshes,  considered  impassable,  through  which 
the  soldier  advances  with  the  water  up  to  his  waist, 
marches  straight  to  the  first  redoubts  and  takes  them 
almost  without  striking  a  blow,  seizes  successively  forti- 
fications covering  a  league,  reaches  Denain,  crosses  the 
moat  which  surrounds  it,  penetrates  into  the  town,  and 
on  arriving  at  the  central  square  finds  his  young  protege, 
the  Chevalier  d'Harmental,  who  presents  to  him  the  sword 
of  Albemarle,  whom  he  has  just  taken  prisoner. 

At  this  moment  the  approach  of  Eugene  is  announced. 
Villars  returns,  reaches  before  his  arrival  the  bridge  over 
which  he  must  pass,  takes  possession  of  it,  and  awaits  him. 
There  the  real  battle  takes  place,  for  the  taking  of  Denain 
had  been  but  a  short  skirmish.  Eugene  makes  attack  after 
attack,  returning  seven  times  to  the  head  of  the  bridge, 
where  the  artillery  and  bayonets  by  which  it  is  defended 
repel  his  best  troops  with  serious  losses.  At  length,  his 
clothes  riddled  with  balls,  bleeding  from  two  wounds,  he 
mounts  his  third  horse,  and  the  conqueror  of  Hochstett 
and  Malplaquet  retreats,  weeping  with  rage,  and  biting  his 
gloves  with  fury.  In  six  hours  the  whole  aspect  of  affairs 
has  changed,  —  France  is  saved,  and  Louis  XIV.  is  still 
the  great  king. 

D'Harmental  had  conducted  himself  like  a  man  who 
wished  to  gain  his  spurs  at  once.  Villars,  seeing  him 
covered  with  blood  and  dust,  recalled  to  mind  by  whom 
the  young  man  had  been  recommended  to  him,  and  made 
him  draw  near,  while  in  the  midst  of  the  field  of  battle 
he  wrote  on  a  drum  the  result  of  the  day's  fighting. 


26  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

"  Are  you  wounded  1 "  he  asked. 

"  Yes,  Monsieur  le  Marechal,  but  so  slightly  that  it  is 
not  worth  speaking  of." 

"  Have  you  the  strength  to  ride  sixty  leagues,  without 
resting  an  hour,  a  minute,  a  second  % " 

"  I  have  the  strength  for  anything  that  will  serve  the 
king  or  you." 

"  Then  set  out  instantly,  go  to  Madame  de  Maintenon, 
tell  her  from  me  what  you  have  seen,  and  announce  to  her 
the  courier  who  will  bring  the  official  account.  If  she 
wishes  to  conduct  you  to  the  king,  go  with  her." 

D'Harmental  understood  the  importance  of  the  mission 
with  which  ha  was  charged ;  and  bleeding  and  dusty  as  he 
was,  he  mounted  a  fresh  horse  and  gained  the  first  stage. 
Twelve  hours  later  he  was  at  Versailles. 

Villars  had  foreseen  what  would  happen.  At  the  first 
words  which  fell  from  the  mouth  of  the  chevalier,  Ma- 
dame de  Maintenon  took  him  by  the  hand  and  conducted 
him  to  the  king.  The  king  was  at  work,  with  Voisin,  in 
his  bedchamber,  —  contrary  to  his  custom,  for  he  was 
somewhat  indisposed. 

Madame  de  Maintenon  opened  the  door,  pushed  D'Har- 
mental to  the  feet  of  the  king,  and  raising  her  hands  to 
heaven,  "  Sire,"  said  she,  "  give  thanks  to  God  !  for  your 
Majesty  knows  we  are  nothing  by  ourselves,  and  every 
blessing  comes  from  Him." 

"  What  has  happened,  Monsieur  1  Speak  !  "  said  the 
king,  quickly,  astonished  to  see  this  young  man,  whom 
ho  did  not  know,  at  his  feet. 

"  Sire,"  replied  the  chevalier,  "  the  camp  at  Denain  is 
taken.  Albemarle  is  a  prisoner.  Prince  Eugene  has 
taken  flight;  and  the  Marechal  de  Villars  places  his 
victory  at  your  Majesty's  feet." 

Louis  XIV.  turned  pale,  in  spite  of  his  command  over 


THE  CHEVALIER.  27 

himself.     His  strength  failed  him,  and  he  leaned  against 
the  table  for  support. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  Sire  1 "  said  Madame  de  Main- 
tenon,  hastening  to  him. 

"  Madame,  I  owe  you  everything,"  said  Louis  XIV. ; 
"  you  save  the  king,  and  your  friends  save  the  kingdom." 

Madame  de  Maintenon  bowed  and  kissed  the  king's 
hand  respectfully. 

Then  Louis  XIV.,  still  pale  and  much  moved,  passed 
behind  the  great  curtain  which  hid  the  alcove  containing 
his  bed,  and  they  heard  a  prayer  of  thanksgiving.  He 
then  reappeared,  grave  and  calm,  as  if  nothing  had 
happened.  "  And  now,  Monsieur,"  said  he,  "  tell  me  the 
details." 

D'Harmental  gave  an  account  of  that  marvellous  battle, 
which  came  as  by  a  miracle  to  save  the  monarchy. 

"And  have  you  nothing  to  tell  of  yourself?"  asked 
Louis  XIV.  "  If  I  may  judge  by  the  blood  and  dust  with 
which  you  are  yet  covered,  you  did  not  remain  idle." 

"  Sire,  I  did  my  best,"  said  D'Harmental,  bowing ; 
"but  if  there  is  really  anything  to  tell,  I  will,  with 
your  permission,  leave  that  narration  to  the  Marechal 
de  Villars." 

"It  is  well,  young  man ;  and  if  he  forgets  you  by 
chance,  we  shall  remember.  You  must  be  fatigued ;  go 
and  rest.     I  am  pleased  with  you." 

D'Harmental  retired  joyously,  Madame  de  Maintenon 
conducting  him  to  the  door ;  he  kissed  her  hand  again, 
and  hastened  to  profit  by  the  royal  permission.  For 
twenty-four  hours  he  had  neither  eaten,  drunk,  nor  slept. 
On  his  awaking,  they  gave  him  a  packet  which  had  been 
brought  from  the  minister  of  war.  It  was  his  commission 
as  colonel. 

Two  months  afterward  peace  was  made.     Spain  gave  up 


28  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

half  its  territory,  but  France  remained  intact.  Louis  XIV. 
\  died.  Two  distinct  and  irreconcilable  parties  were  in  ex- 
istence, —  that  of  the  bastards,  centring  in  the  Due  du 
Maine,  and  that  of  the  legitimate  princes,  represented  by 
th     Due  d'Orleans. 

If  the  Due  du  Maine  had  had  the  will,  the  persever- 
ance, the  courage,  of  his  wife,  Louise  Benedicte  de  Conde\ 
perhaps,  supported  as  he  was  by  the  king's  testamentary 
directions,  he  might  have  triumphed.  But  he  had  to 
defend  himself  in  broad  day,  as  he  was  attacked;  and 
the  Due  du  Maine,  weak  in  mind  and  heart,  dangerous  by 
force  of  cowardice,  was  good  for  nothing  except  for  trans- 
actions carried  on  in  secret.  He  was  threatened  openly, 
so  that  his  numberless  artifices,  his  cunning  pretences,  his 
dark  and  deep  expedients,  were  useless  to  him.  In  one 
day,  and  almost  without  a  struggle,  he  was  precipitated 
from  that  height  to  which  he  had  been  raised  by  the 
blind  love  of  the  old  king.  It  was  an  ignominious  fall ; 
he  retired  in  disorder,  abandoning  the  regency  to  his  rival, 
and  preserving,  out  of  all  the  favors  heaped  upon  him,  only 
the  superintendence  of  the  royal  education,  the  command 
of  the  artillery,  and  precedence  over  the  dukes  and  peers. 

The  decree  rendered  by  the  parliament  struck  the  old 
court  and  all  attached  to  it.  Pere  Letellier  did  not  wait 
to  be  exiled ;  Madame  de  Maintenon  took  refuge  at  St. 
Cyr ;  and  Monsieur  le  Due  du  Maine  shut  himself  up 
in  the  beautiful  town  of  Sceaux,  to  continue  his  transla- 
tion of  Lucretius. 

The  Chevalier  d'Harmental  had  followed,  as  an  in- 
terested observer,  these  different  intrigues,  waiting  till 
they  should  assume  a  character  which  would  permit  him 
to  take  part  in  them.  If  there  had  been  an  open  and 
armed  contest,  he  would  have  taken  that  side  to  which 
gratitude  called  him.    Too  young,  and  as  yet  too  chaste,  — 


THE  CHEVALIER.  29 

if  that  word  may  be  used  in  treating  of  politics,  —  to  turn 
with  the  wind  of  fortune,  he  remained  faithful  to  the 
memory  of  the  late  king,  and  to  the  ruins  of  the  old 
court. 

His  absence  from  the  Palais  Royal,  round  which  hove?  4 
all  those  who  wished  to  take  a  place  in  the  political  firma- 
ment, was  interpreted  as  opposition ;  and  as  he  had  re- 
ceived one  morning  the  commission  which  gave  him  a 
regiment,  so  on  another  morning  he  received  the  decree 
which  took  it  from  him. 

D'Harmental  had  the  ambition  of  his  age.  The  only 
career  then  open  to  a  gentleman  was  that  of  arms.  His 
debut  had  been  brilliant ;  and  the  blow  which  took  from 
him,  at  the  age  of  twenty-five  years,  all  his  hopes  for  the 
future  was  profoundly  painful.  He  hastened  to  Monsieur 
de  Villars,  in  whom  he  had  found  so  warm  a  protector. 
The  marshal  received  him  with  the  coldness  of  a  man  who 
wishes  not  only  to  forget  the  past,  but  also  to  see  it  forgot- 
ten.- D'Harmental  understood  that  the  old  courtier  was 
about  to  change  his  skin,  and  retired  discreetly. 

Although  selfishness  was  the  ruling  principle  of  that 
period,  the  chevalier's  first  encounter  with  it  was  bitter 
to  him ;  but  he  was  at  that  happy  time  of  life  when  a 
disappointed  ambition  rarely  occasions  a  deep  or  lasting 
grief. 

Ambition  is  the  passion  of  those  who  have  no  other, 
and  the  chevalier  had  every  one  proper  to  five-and-twenty 
years  of  age.  Besides,  the  spirit  of  the  times  did  not 
tend  to  melancholy  ;  that  is  a  modern  sentiment,  spring- 
ing from  the  overthrow  of  fortunes  and  the  weakness  of 
man.  In  the  eighteenth  century  men  rarely  dreamed  of 
abstract  things,  or  aspired  toward  the  unknown;  they 
went  straight  to  pleasure,  glory,  or  fortune,  and  all  who 
tfrere  handsome,  brave,  or  intriguing  could  attain  them. 


30  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

Up  to  that  time  one  could  be  happy  without  being 
ashamed  of  it ;  now  mind  rules  matter  with  so  high  a 
hand  that  men  dare  not  avow  that  they  are  happy. 

Besides,  it  must  be  admitted  that  joy  was  "  in  the  air." 
France  seemed  to  be  sailing,  with  all  sails  spread,  in 
search  of  one  of  those  enchanted  islands  found  on  the 
shining  map  of  the  "Arabian  Nights."  After  the  long 
and  sombre  winter  of  Louis  XI Ws  old  age  appeared  all 
at  once  the  joyous  and  brilliant  spring  of  a  young  royalty. 
Every  one  basked  in  this  new  sun,  radiant  and  benevo- 
lent, and  went  about  buzzing  and  careless,  like  the  bees 
and  butterflies  on  the  first  fine  day  of  summer. 

Pleasure,  absent  and  proscribed  for  more  than  thirty 
years,  had  returned,  and  was  welcomed  as  a  friend  sup- 
posed to  have  gone  forever.  From  all  directions  she  was 
greeted  with  open  arms  and  open  hearts;  and  in  the 
fear,  no  doubt,  that  she  might  again  disappear,  there  was 
a  general  disposition  to  make  the  most  of  every  moment 
of  her  stay. 

The  Chevalier  d'Harmental  had  retained  his  sadness  for 
a  week.  Then  he  had  mingled  again  with  the  crowd  ; 
then  the  whirlpool  had  seized  him,  and  had  thrown  him 
at  the  feet  of  a  pretty  woman.  For  three  months  he  had 
been  the  happiest  man  in  the  world.  He  had  forgotten 
St.  Cyr,  the  Tuileries,  and  the  Palais  Royal.  He  did  not 
know  whether  there  was  a  Madame  de  Maintenon,  a  king, 
or  a  regent.  He  knew  only  that  it  is  sweet  to  live  when 
one  is  loved,  and  he  did  not  see  why  he  should  not  live 
ami  love  forever.  He  was  still  in  this  dream,  when, 
as  we  have  said,  supping  with  his  friend  the  Baron  de 
Valef  at  La  Fillon's,  in  the  Rue  St.  Honore',  he  had  been 
brutally  awakened  by  Lafare.  Lovers  are  often  unpleas- 
antly awakened;  and  we  have  seen  that  D'Harmental 
was  not  more  patient  under  that  experience  than  others. 


THE  CHEVALIER.  31 

Impatience  was  especially  pardonable  in  the  chevalier, 
because  he  thought  he  loved  truly,  and  because,  in  his 
juvenile  good  faith,  he  thought  that  nothing  could  replace 
love  in  his  heart. 

Thus  Madame  d'Averne's  strange  but  candid  letter,  in- 
stead of  inspiring  him  with  the  admiration  which  it  mer- 
ited, had  at  first  overwhelmed  him.  It  is  the  property  of 
every  sorrow  which  overtakes  us  to  reawaken  griefs  which 
we  believed  dead,  but  which  were  only  sleeping.  The 
soul  has  its  scars  as  well  as  the  body,  and  they  are  seldom 
so  well  healed  but  that  a  new  wound  can  reopen  them. 

D'Harmental  again  began  to  feel  ambitious.  The  loss 
of  his  mistress  had  recalled  to  him  the  loss  of  his  regi- 
ment. And  therefore  it  required  nothing  more  than  the 
second  letter,  so  unexpected  and  mysterious,  to  divert 
him  from  his  grief.  A  lover  of  our  days  would  have 
thrown  it  from  him  with  disdain,  and  would  have  despised 
himself  if  he  had  not  nursed  his  grief  so  as  to  make  him- 
self poetically  melancholy  for  a  week  at  least ;  but  a  lover 
during  the  regency  was  much  more  accommodating.  Sui- 
cide was  not  yet  invented,  and  if  by  chance  any  one  fell 
into  the  water  he  did  not  drown  so  long  as  there  was  the 
least  little  straw  to  cling  to. 

D'Harmental  did  not  affect  the  folly  of  sadness.  He 
decided,  sighing,  it  is  true,  that  he  would  go  to  the  opera 
ball ;  and  for  a  lover  betrayed  in  so  unforeseen  and  cruel 
a  manner  this  was  something.  But  it  must  be  confessed, 
to  the  shame  of  our  poor  species,  that  he  was  led  to  this 
philosophic  determination  chiefly  by  the  fact  that  the  let- 
ter was  written  in  a  female  hand. 


32  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 


CHAPTEE    IV. 

A   BAL-MASQUE   OF   THE    PERIOD. THE   BAT. 

The  opera  balls  were  then  at  their  height.  They  were  an 
invention  of  the  Chevalier  de  Bouillon,  who  obtained  par- 
don for  assuming,  on  unintelligible  grounds,  the  title  of 
Prince  d'Auvergne,  only  by  rendering  this  service  to  the 
dissipated  society  of  the  time.  It  was  he  who  had  in- 
vented the  double  flooring  which  put  the  pit  on  a  level 
with  the  stage  ;  and  the  regent,  who  highly  appreciated 
all  good  inventions,  had  granted  him  in  recompense  a 
pension  of  six  thousand  francs,  which  was  four  times 
what  the  "great  king"  had  given  to  Corneille.  That 
beautiful  hall,  with  its  rich  and  grave  architecture,  which 
the  Cardinal  de  Richelieu  had  inaugurated  with  his  "  Mi- 
rame,"  where  Lulli  and  Quinault  had  presented  their 
dramas  of  country  life,  and  where  Moliere  had  himself 
played  his  principal  works,  was  this  evening  the  rendez- 
vous of  all  that  was  noble,  rich,  and  elegant  in  the  court. 

D'Harmental,  from  a  feeling  of  spite,  very  natural  in 
his  situation,  had  taken  particular  pains  with  his  toilet. 
When  he  arrived,  the  room  was  already  full,  and  he  had 
some  apprehension  that  the  mask  with  the  violet  ribbon 
would  not  find  him,  inasmuch  as  the  unknown  had 
neglected  to  assign  a  place  of  meeting  ;  and  he  congratu- 
lated himself  on  having  come  unmasked.  This  resolution 
showed  great  confidence  in  the  discretion  of  his  adver- 
saries in  the  recent  engagement,  a  word  from  whom  would 
have  sent  him  before  the  parliament,  or  at  least  to  the 


A  BAL-MASQUE  OF  THE  PERIOD.  33 

Bastille.  But  so  much  confidence  had  the  gentlemen  of 
that  day  in  one  another's  good  faith  that  after  having  in 
the  morning  passed  his  sword  through  the  body  of  one 
of  the  regent's  favorites,  the  chevalier  came,  without 
hesitation,  to  seek  an  adventure  at  the  Palais  Royal. 
The  first  person  he  saw  there  was  the  young  Due  de 
Richelieu,  whose  name,  adventures,  elegance,  and  per- 
haps his  indiscretions,  had  already  brought  him  so  much 
into  fashion.  It  was  said  that  two  princesses  of  the  blood 
disputed  his  affections,  which  did  not  prevent  Madame 
de  Nesle  and  Madame  de  Polignac  from  fighting  with 
pistols  for  him,  or  Madame  de  Sabran,  Madame  de  Vil- 
lars,  Madame  de  Mouchy,  and  Madame  de  Tencin  from 
sharing  his  heart. 

He  had  just  joined  the  Marquis  de  Canillac,  one  of  the 
regent's  favorites,  whom,  on  account  of  the  grave  appear- 
ance he  affected,  his  Highness  called  his  mentor.  Riche- 
lieu began  to  tell  Canillac  a  story,  in  a  loud  voice,  and 
with  bursts  of  laughter.  The  chevalier  was  acquainted 
with  the  duke,  but  not  intimately  enough  to  interrupt 
him  in  the  midst  of  a  conversation ;  he  was  about  to  pass, 
when  the  duke  seized  him  by  the  coat. 

"  Pardieu  I "  he  said,  "  my  dear  Chevalier,  you  are 
welcome.  I  am  telling  Canillac  an  adventure  which  may 
be  useful  to  him  as  nocturnal  lieutenant  to  the  regent, 
and  to  you  as  exposed  to  the  same  danger  as  mine.  The 
story  dates  from  to-day,  —  a  further  merit,  as  I  have  had 
only  time  to  tell  it  to  about  twenty  people,  so  that  it  is 
scarcely  known.  Spread  it ;  you  will  oblige  me,  and  the 
regent  also." 

D'Harmental    frowned.     The    duke    had    chosen    his 

time  badly.     At  this  moment  the  Chevalier  de  Ravanne 

passed,  pursuing  a  mask.     "  Ravanne  !  "  cried  Richelieu, 

"  Ravanne ! " 

a 


34  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

"  I  am  not  at  leisure,"  replied  the  chevalier. 

"  Do  you  know  where  Lafare  is  ? " 

"  He  has  a  headache." 

"And  Fargy?" 

"He  has  a  sprain."  And  Ravanne  disappeared  in  the 
crowd,  after  bowing  in  the  most  friendly  manner  to  hia 
adversary  of  the  morning. 

"  Well,  and  the  story  1 "  asked  Canillac. 

"  We  are  coming  to  it.  Imagine  that  six  or  seven 
months  ago,  when  I  left  the  Bastille,  where  my  duel  with 
Gace"  had  sent  me,  three  or  four  days  after  my  reappear- 
ance Rafe  gave  me  a  charming  little  note  from  Madame 
de  Parabere,  inviting  me  to  pass  that  evening  with  her. 
You  understand,  Chevalier,  that  it  is  not  at  the  moment 
of  leaving  the  Bastille  that  one  would  despise  a  rendez- 
vous given  by  the  mistress  of  him  who  holds  the  keys. 
No  need  to  inquire  if  I  was  punctual.  At  the  time  ap- 
pointed I  was  there.  Guess  whom  I  found  seated  on  the 
sofa  by  her  side.     I  give  you  a  hundred  guesses." 

"  Her  husband  ] "  said  Canillac. 

"By  no  means;  his  Royal  Highness  himself.  I  was 
the  more  astonished,  as  I  had  been  admitted  with  some 
mystery,  as  if  the  lady  were  alone ;  nevertheless,  as  you 
will  understand,  I  would  not  allow  myself  to  appear  as- 
tonished. I  assumed  a  composed  and  modest  air,  like 
yours,  Canillac,  and  saluted  the  marchioness  with  such 
profound  respect  that  the  regent  burst  out  laughing.  I 
did  not  expect  this  explosion,  and  was,  I  confess,  a  little 
disconcerted.  I  was  about  to  sit  down  in  a  chair,  but  the 
regent  signed  to  me  to  sit  on  the  sofa,  on  the  other  side 
of  the  marchioness.  I  obeyed.  '  My  dear  Duke,'  he  said, 
'we  have  written  to  you  on  a  serious  affair.  Here  is 
this  poor  marchioness,  who,  after  being  separated  from 
her  husband  for  two  years,  finds  herself  in  an  interesting 


A  BAL-MASQUE  OF  THE  PERIOD.  35 

situation.'  The  marchioness  tried  to  blush,  but  finding 
she  could  not,  covered  her  face  with  her  fan.  'At  the 
first  word  she  told  me  of  her  position,'  continued  the  re- 
gent, '  I  sent  for  D'Argenson,  and  asked  him  who  could 
be  the  father.'  '  Oh,  Monsieur,  spare  me  ! '  said  the  mar- 
chioness. '  Nonsense,  my  little  duck ;  a  little  patience ! 
Do  you  know  what  the  lieutenant  of  police  answered  me, 
my  dear  Duke  ? '  '  No,'  said  I,  much  embarrassed.  '  He 
said  it  was  either  you  or  I.'  '  It  is  an  atrocious  calumny  ! ' 
I  cried.  'Don't  be  excited,  Duke;  the  marchioness  has 
confessed  all.'  'Then/  I  replied,  'if  the  marchioness  has 
confessed  all,  I  don't  see  what  remains  for  me  to  tell.' 
1  Oh,'  continued  the  regent,  '  I  don't  ask  you  for  details. 
It  only  remains  for  us,  as  accomplices,  to  get  each  other 
out  of  the  scrape.'  'And  what  have  you  to  fear,  Mon- 
seigneur?'  I  asked.  'As  for  myself,  I  know  that  pro- 
tected by  your  Higlmess's  name,  I  can  brave  all.'  '  What 
have  we  to  fear,  my  dear  fellow  1 '  '  The  outcry  of  Para- 
bere,  who  wants  me  to  make  him  a  duke.'  '  Well,  sup- 
pose we  make  him  the  father,'  I  replied.  '  Exactly,'  said 
his  Highness,  laughing;  'and  you  have  had  the  same  idea 
as  the  marchioness.'  '  Pardieu  !  Madame,'  I  said, '  that  is 
an  honor  for  me.'  '  But  the  difficulty,'  objected  Madame 
de  Parabere,  'is  that  it  is  more  than  two  years  since  I 
have  even  spoken  to  the  marquis  ;  and  as  he  piques  him- 
self on  his  jealousy  and  severity,  I  don't  know  what  may 
happen.  He  has  made  a  vow  that  if  ever  I  should  get 
into  the  condition  in  which  I  now  am,  the  law  should 
avenge  him.'  'You  see,  Richelieu,  this  becomes  rather 
uncomfortable,' added  the  regent.  '  Teste!  I  think  so, 
Monseigneur ! '  'I  have  some  means  of  coercion  in  my 
hands,  but  they  do  not  go  so  far  as  to  force  a  husband  to 
be  reconciled  to  his  wife,  and  to  receive  her  at  his  house.' 
4  Well,'  I  replied,  '  suppose  we  bring  him  here.'     '  There 


36  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

is  the  difficulty.'  'Wait  a  moment;  Madame  la  Mar- 
quise, may  I  ask,  without  indiscretion,  if  Monsieur  de 
Parabere  still  has  a  weakness  for  champagne  and  bur- 
gundy V  'I  fear  so,'  said  the  marchioness.  *  Then, 
Monseigneur,  we  are  saved !  I  invite  the  marquis  to 
supper,  with  a  dozen  of  good  fellows  and  charming 
women.  You  send  Dubois  — '  i  What !  Dubois  ? ' 
asked  the  regent.  4  Certainly ;  one  of  us  must  remain 
sober.  As  Dubois  cannot  drink,  he  must  undertake  to 
make  the  marquis  drink ;  and  when  everybody  is  under 
the  table,  he  can  take  him  away  from  us  and  do  what 
he  likes  with  him.  The  rest  depends  on  the  marchioness.' 
i  Did  I  not  tell  you,  Marchioness,'  said  the  regent,  clap- 
ping his  hands, '  that  Eichelieu  would  give  us  good  advice? 
See  here,  Duke,'  he  continued,  '  you  must  leave  off  wan- 
dering round  certain  palaces;  leave  the  old  lady  to  die 
quietly  at  St.  Cyr,  the  lame  man  to  rhyme  at  Sceaux,  and 
join  yourself  with  us.  I  will  give  you,  in  my  cabinet, 
the  place  of  that  old  fool  D'Uxelles ;  and  affairs  will  go 
no  worse  for  the  change.'  '  Oh,  yes,'  I  replied,  '  I  dare 
say ;  but  the  thing  is  impossible,  —  I  have  other  views.' 
'  Obstinate  fellow  ! '  murmured  the  regent." 

"  And  Monsieur  de  Parabere  1 "  asked  the  Chevalier 
d'Harmontal,  curious  to  know  the  end  of  the  story. 

"Oh,  everything  took  place  as  we  had  planned.  He 
went  to  sleep  at  my  house,  and  awoke  at  his  wife's.  He 
made  a  great  noise,  but  there  was  no  longer  any  possibility 
of  crying  scandal  and  initiating  a  legal  process.  His  car- 
riage had  stopped  at  night  at  his  wife's  hotel,  and  all  the 
servants  saw  him  enter,  and  saw  him  leave  in  the  morn- 
ing ;  so  that  we  have  tranquilly  waited  for  the  end,  &h 
though  with  some  impatience  to  know  whom  the  child 
would  resemble,  —  Monsieur  de  Parabere,  the  regent,  or  my* 
self.     Well,  the  marchioness  was  delivered  to-day  at  noon/ 


A  BAL-MASQUE  OF  THE  PERIOD.  37 

"  And  whom  does  the  child  resemble  1 "  asked  Canillac. 

"  Noce ! "  replied  Richelieu,  with  a  burst  of  laughter. 
"  Is  n't  it  a  good  story,  Marquis  1  What  a  pity  that  the 
poor  Marquis  de  Parabere  should  be  so  foolish  as  to  die 
before  the  denouement/  How  he  would  have  been 
avenged  for  the  trick  we  played  him ! " 

"Chevalier,"  at  this  moment  a  sweet  and  flute-like 
voice  whispered  in  D'Harmental's  ear,  while  a  little  hand 
rested  on  his  arm,  "  when  you  have  finished  your  conver- 
sation with  Monsieur  de  Richelieu,  I  claim  my  turn." 

"Pardon  me,  Monsieur  le  Due,"  said  the  chevalier, 
"but  you  see  that  I  am  called  away." 

"  I  will  let  you  go  on  one  condition." 

"What  is  it I" 

"That  you  will  tell  my  story  to  this  charming  bat, 
charging  her  to  tell  it  to  all  the  night-birds  of  her 
acquaintance." 

"  I  fear,"  said  D'Harmental,  "  I  shall  not  have  time." 

"Oh!  so  much  the  better  for  you,"  replied  the  duke, 
freeing  the  chevalier,  whom  till  then  he  had  held  by  the 
coat,  "for  then  you  must  have  something  better  to  say." 
And  he  turned  on  his  heel,  to  take  the  arm  of  a  domino, 
who,  in  passing,  stopped  to  compliment  him  on  his 
adventure. 

D'Harmental  threw  a  rapid  glance  on  the  mask  who 
had  accosted  him,  in  order  to  make  sure  that  it  was  the 
one  with  whom  he  had  an  appointment,  and  was  satis- 
fied on  seeing  a  violet  ribbon  on  the  left  shoulder.  He 
hastened,  therefore,  to  remove  himself  to  some  distance 
from  Canillac  and  Richelieu,  in  order  not  to  be  inter- 
rupted in  a  conversation  which  he  expected  to  be  highly 
interesting. 

The  unknown,  whose  voice  betrayed  her  sex,  was  of 
middle  height,  and  young,  so  far  as  one  could  judge  from 


38  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

the  elasticity  of  her  movements.  As  to  her  stature  and 
form,  as  to  all  that  which  the  eye  of  the  observer  is  so 
curious  to  discover  in  such  cases,  it  was  useless  to  specu- 
late, —  the  study  promised  so  small  result.  In  short,  as 
the  word  dropped  by  Monsieur  de  Richelieu  has  already 
indicated,  she  had  adopted  the  costume  best  calculated  to 
hide  either  graces  or  defects ;  she  was  dressed  as  a  bat,  — 
a  costume  much  in  vogue  at  that  period,  and  very  con- 
venient by  reason  of  its  remarkable  simplicity,  since  it 
consisted  only  of  two  black  skirts.  The  manner  of  em- 
ploying them  was  at  the  command  of  everybody.  One 
was  fastened,  as  usual,  round  the  waist ;  the  masked  head 
was  passed  through  the  placket-hole  of  the  other.  The 
front  was  pulled  down  to  make  wings ;  the  back  raised  to 
make  horns.  Any  one  could  be  almost  certain  thus  to 
puzzle  an  interlocutor,  who  could  recognize  him  only  upon 
the  closest  scrutiny. 

The  chevalier  made  all  these  observations  in  less  time 
than  it  has  taken  to  describe  them  ;  but  having  no  knowl- 
edge of  the  person  with  whom  he  had  to  deal,  and  believ- 
ing it  to  be  some  love  intrigue,  he  hesitated  to  speak, 
when,  turning  toward  him,  "Chevalier,"  said  the  mask, 
without  disguising  her  voice,  assuming  that  it  was 
unknown  to  him,  "  do  you  know  that  I  am  doubly  grate- 
ful to  you  for  having  come,  particularly  in  the  state  of 
mind  in  which  you  are  1  It  is  unfortunate  that  I  cannot 
attribute  this  exactitude  to  anything  but  curiosity." 

"Beautiful  mask,"  answered  D'Harmental,  "did  you 
not  tell  me  in  your  letter  that  you  were  a  good  genius'? 
Now,  if  really  you  partake  of  a  superior  nature,  the  past, 
the  present,  and  the  future  must  be  known  to  you.  You 
knew,  then,  that  I  should  come ;  and  since  you  knew  it, 
my  coming  ought  not  to  astonish  you." 

"  Alas  !  "  replied  the  unknown,  "it  is  easy  to  see  that 


A  BAL-MASQUE  OF   THE  PERIOD.  39 

you  are  a  weak  mortal,  and  that  you  are  happy  enough 
never  to  have  raised  yourself  above  your  sphere.  Other- 
wise you  would  know  that  if  we,  as  you  say,  know  the 
past,  the  present,  and  the  future,  this  science  is  silent  as 
to  what  regards  ourselves ;  and  the  things  buried  in  the 
deepest  obscurity  are  those  which  we  most  desire  to  know." 

"  Diable  /  Monsieur  le  Genie,"  answered  D'Harmental, 
"  do  you  know  that  you  will  make  me  very  vain  if  you 
continue  in  that  tone  ?  For,  take  care !  you  have  told 
me,  or  nearly  so,  that  you  had  a  great  desire  that  I  should 
come  to  your  rendezvous." 

"  I  did  not  think  I  was  telling  you  anything  new, 
Chevalier.  It  appeared  to  me  that  my  letter  would  leave 
you  no  doubt  as  to  the  desire  I  felt  of  seeing  you." 

"  This  desire,  which  I  admit  only  because  you  declare 
it,  and  I  am  too  gallant  to  contradict  you,  —  has  it  not 
made  you  promise  in  your  letter  more  than  is  in  your 
power  to  perform1?" 

"  Make  a  trial  of  my  science ;  that  will  give  you  a  test 
of  my  power." 

"  Oh,  moil  Dieu  !  I  will  confine  myself  to  the  simplest 
thing.  You  say  you  are  acquainted  with  the  past,  the 
present,  and  the  future.     Tell  me  my  fortune." 

"  Nothing  easier.     Give  me  your  hand  !  " 

D'Harmental  did  what  was  asked  of  him. 

"Sire  Chevalier,"  said  the  stranger,  after  a  moment's 
examination,  "  I  see  very  legibly  written  by  the  direction 
of  the  adductor  muscle,  and  by  the  arrangement  of  the 
longitudinal  lines  of  the  palm,  five  words,  in  which  are 
included  the  history  of  your  life.  These  words  are,  cour- 
age, ambition,  disappointment,  love,  and  treachery" 

"  Peste  /"  interrupted  the  chevalier,  "  I  did  not  know 
that  the  genii  studied  anatomy  so  deeply,  and  were  obliged 
to  take  their  degrees  like  a  Bachelor  of  Salamanca." 


40  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

"Genii  know  all  that  men  know,  and  many  othei 
things  besides,  Chevalier." 

"  Well,  then,  what  mean  these  words,  at  once  so  sono- 
rous and  so  opposite ;  and  what  do  they  teach  you  of  me 
in  the  past,  my  very  learned  genius  1 " 

"  They  teach  me  that  it  is  by  your  courage  alone  that 
you  gained  the  rank  of  colonel,  which  you  held  in  the 
army  of  Flanders ;  that  this  rank  awakened  your  ambi- 
tion; that  this  ambition  has  been  followed  by  a  disap- 
pointment; that  you  hoped  to  console  yourself  for  this 
disappointment  by  love;  but  that  love,  like  fortune,  is 
subject  to  treachery,  and  that  you  have  been  betrayed." 

"  Not  bad,"  said  the  chevalier ;  "  and  the  Sibyl  of 
Cuniffi  could  not  have  got  out  of  it  better.  A  little 
vague,  as  in  all  horoscopes,  but  a  great  fund  of  truth, 
nevertheless.  Let  us  come  to  the  present,  beautiful 
mask." 

"The  present,  Chevalier?  Let  us  speak  softly  of  it, 
for  it  smells  terribly  of  the  Bastille." 

The  chevalier  started  in  spite  of  himself,  for  he  be- 
lieved that  no  one  except  the  actors  who  had  played  a 
part  in  it  could  know  his  adventure  of  the  morning. 

"There  are  at  this  hour,"  continued  the  stranger,  "two 
brave  gentlemen  lying  sadly  in  their  beds,  while  we  chat 
gayly  at  the  ball ;  and  that  because  a  certain  Chevalier 
d'Harmental,  a  great  listener  at  doors,  did  not  remember 
a  hemistich  of  Virgil." 

"And  what  is  this  hemistich V*  asked  the  chevalier, 
more  and  more  astonished. 

"  '  Facilis  descensus  A  verm,'  "  said  the  Bat,  laughing. 

"  My  dear  genius,"  cried  the  chevalier,  trying  to  peep 
through  the  openings  in  the  stranger's  mask,  "  that,  allow 
me  to  inform  you,  is  a  quotation  rather  masculine." 

"  Do  you  not  know  that  genii  are  of  both  sexes  1 " 


A  BAL-MASQUE  OF  THE  PERIOD.  41 

"  Yes ;  but  I  had  never  heard  that  they  quoted  the 
Mneid  so  fluently." 

"  Is  not  the  quotation  appropriate  1  You  speak  to  me 
of  the  Sibyl  of  Cuinse ;  I  answer  you  in  her  language. 
You  ask  for  something  positive ;  I  give  it  to  you.  But 
you  mortals  are  never  satisfied." 

"  No ;  for  I  confess  that  this  knowledge  of  the  past  and 
the  present  inspires  me  with  an  oppressive  desire  to  know 
the  future." 

"  There  are  always  two  futures,"  said  the  mask ;  "  there 
is  the  future  of  weak  minds,  and  the  future  of  strong 
minds.  God  has  given  man  free  will  that  he  may  choose. 
Your  future  depends  on  yourself." 

"But  we  must  know  these  two  futures,  that  we  may 
choose  the  best." 

"Well,  there  is  one  which  awaits  you  somewhere  in 
the  environs  of  Nevers,  in  the  depth  of  the  country,  among 
the  rabbits  of  your  warren  and  the  fowls  of  your  poultry- 
yard.  .  This  one  will  conduct  you  straight  to  the  magis- 
trate's bench  of  your  parish.  It  is  an  easy  ambition,  and 
you  have  only  to  let  yourself  go  to  attain  it.  You  are  on 
the  road." 

"  And  the  other  1 "  replied  the  chevalier,  visibly  piqued 
at  the  supposition  that  in  any  case  such  a  future  could 
be  his. 

"  The  other,"  said  the  stranger,  leaning  her  arm  on  that 
of  the  young  man,  and  fixing  her  eyes  on  him  through  her 
mask,  —  "  the  other  will  throw  you  back  into  noise  and 
light,  will  make  you  one  of  the  actors  in  the  game 
which  is  playing  in  the  world,  and  whether  you  gain  or 
lose,  will  leave  you  at  least  the  renown  of  a  great 
player." 

"  If  I  lose,  what  shall  I  lose  % "  asked  the  chevalier. 

"Life,  probably." 


42  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

The  chevalier  tossed  his  head  contemptuously. 

"  And  if  I  win  ] "  added  he. 

M  What  do  you  say  to  the  rank  of  colonel  of  horse,  the 
title  of  Grandee  of  Spain,  and  the  order  of  the  Saint 
Esprit,  without  counting  the  field-marshal's  baton  in  the 
future?" 

"  I  say  that  the  prize  is  worth  the  stake,  and  that  if  you 
can  prove  to  me  that  you  can  keep  your  promise,  I  am 
your  man." 

"This  proof,"  replied  the  mask,  "must  be  given  you 
by  another ;  and  if  you  wish  to  have  it,  you  must  follow 
me." 

"  Oh,"  said  D'Harmental,  "  am  I  deceived,  and  are  you 
but  a  genius  of  the  second  order,  — -  a  subaltern  spirit,  an 
intermediate  power  1  Diable  I  this  would  take  away  a 
little  of  my  consideration  for  you." 

"What  does  it  matter  if  I  am  subject  to  some  great 
enchantress,  and  she  has  sent  me  to  you  1 " 

"  I  warn  you  that  I  do  not  treat  with  ambassadors." 

"  And  therefore  my  mission  is  to  conduct  you  to  her." 

"  Then  I  shall  see  her  1 " 

"  Face  to  face,  as  Moses  saw  the  Lord." 

"  Let  us  go,  then." 

"  Chevalier,  you  go  quickly  to  the  work ;  you  forget 
that  before  all  initiations  there  are  certain  indispensable 
ceremonies  to  secure  the  discretion  of  the  initiated." 

"What  must  I  do?" 

"  You  must  allow  your  eyes  to  be  bandaged,  and  let  me 
lead  you  where  I  like.  When  arrived  at  the  door  of  the 
temple,  you  must  take  a  solemn  oath  to  reveal  nothing 
concerning  the  things  you  may  hear,  or  the  persons  you 
may  see." 

"  I  am  ready  to  swear  by  the  Styx,"  said  D'Harmental, 
laughing. 


A  BAL- MASQUE   OF  THE   PERIOD.  43 

"  No,  Chevalier,"  said  the  mask,  in  a  grave  voice ; 
"swear  only  by  your  honor.  You  are  known,  and  that 
will  suffice." 

"  And  when  I  have  taken  this  oath,"  asked  the  cheva- 
lier, after  an  instant's  reflection,  "  will  it  be  permitted  to 
me  to  retire,  if  the  proposals  made  are  not  such  as  a  gen- 
tleman may  entertain  1 " 

"Your  conscience  will  be  your  sole  arbiter,  and  your 
word  the  only  pledge  demanded  of  you." 

"  I  am  ready,"  said  the  chevalier. 

"  Let  us  go,  then,"  said  the  mask. 

The  chevalier  prepared  to  cross  the  room  in  a  straight 
line  toward  the  door ;  but  perceiving  three  of  his  friends, 
who  might  have  stopped  him  on  the  way,  he  made  a  turn 
and  described  a  curve,  which,  however,  would  bring  him 
to  the  same  end. 

"  What  are  you  doing  1 "  asked  the  mask. 

"  I  am  avoiding  some  one  who  might  detain  us." 

"  Ah  !"  said  the  mask,  "  I  began  to  fear." 

"  Fear  what  1 "  asked  D'Harmental. 

"  To  fear  that  your  ardor  was  diminished  in  the  propor- 
tion of  the  diagonal  to  the  two  sides  of  a  square." 

"  Pardieu  !  "  said  D'Harmental,  "  this  is  the  first  time, 
I  believe,  that  ever  a  rendezvous  was  given  to  a  gentleman 
at  an  opera  ball  to  talk  anatomy,  ancient  literature,  and 
mathematics.  I  am  sorry  to  say  so,  but  you  are  the  most 
pedantic  genius  I  ever  met  in  my  life." 

The  Bat  burst  out  laughing,  but  made  no  reply  to  this 
sally,  in  which  was  betrayed  the  spite  of  the  chevalier  at 
not  being  able  to  recognize  a  person  who  appeared  to  be 
so  well  acquainted  with  his  adventures  ;  but  as  this  only 
added  to  his  curiosity,  both  descended  in  equal  haste,  and 
found  themselves  in  the  vestibule. 

"  What   road   shall   we   take  1 "    asked   the   chevalier. 


44  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

"  Shall  we  travel  underground,  or  in  a  car  drawn  by 
griffins  T' 

"  With  your  permission,  Chevalier,  we  will  simply  go 
in  a  carriage.  In  fact,  and  though  more  than  once  you 
have  seemed  to  doubt  it,  I  am  a  woman,  and  I  am  rather 
afraid  of  the  dark." 

"  Permit  me,  then,  to  call  my  carriage,"  said  the 
chevalier. 

"  Not  at  all ;  I  have  my  own." 

"Call  it,  then." 

"  With  your  permission,  Chevalier,  we  will  not  be  more 
proud  than  Mahomet  with  the  mountain ;  and  as  my 
carriage  cannot  come  to  us,  we  will  go  to  it." 

At  these  words  the  Bat  drew  the  chevalier  into  the  Kue 
St.  Honore.  A  carriage  without  armorial  bearings,  with 
two  dark-colored  horses,  waited  at  the  corner  of  the  street. 
The  coachman  was  on  his  seat,  enveloped  in  a  great  cape 
which  hid  the  lower  part  of  his  face,  while  a  three-cornered 
hat  covered  his  forehead  and  eyes.  A  footman  held  the 
door  open  with  one  hand,  and  with  the  other  held  his 
handkerchief  so  as  to  conceal  his  face. 

"  Get  in,"  said  the  mask. 

D'Harmental  hesitated  a  moment.  Those  two  servants 
without  livery,  who  seemed  as  anxious  as  their  mistress 
to  preserve  their  incognito ;  the  carriage  without  blazon  ; 
the  obscure  place  where  it  was  drawn  up ;  and  the  ad- 
vanced hour  of  the  night,  —  all  inspired  the  chevalier  with 
a  very  natural  sentiment  of  mistrust ;  but  reflecting  that 
he  gave  his  arm  to  a  woman,  and  had  a  sword  by  his  side, 
he  got  in  boldly.  The  Bat  sat  down  by  him,  and  the 
footman  closed  the  door. 

"  Well,  are  we  not  going  to  start  1 "  said  the  chevalier, 
seeing  that  the  carriage  remained  motionless. 

"There    remains    a    little    precaution    to   be  taken," 


A  BAL-MASQUE  OF  THE  PERIOD.  45 

said  the  mask,  drawing  a  silk  handkerchief  from  her 
pocket. 

"Ah,  yes,  true,"  said  D'Harmental ;  "I  had  forgotten. 
I  give  myself  up  to  you  with  confidence."  And  he  ad- 
vanced his  head. 

The  unknown  bandaged  his  eyes,  then  said,  "  Cheva- 
lier, you  give  me  your  word  of  honor  not  to  move  this 
bandage  till  permission  is  given  you  to  take  it  off 
altogether?" 

"  I  do." 

"It  is  well." 

Then,  raising  the  glass  in  front,  she  said  to  the  coach- 
man, "  You  know  where,  Monsieur  le  Comte."  And  the 
horses  started  off  at  a  gallop. 


46  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 


CHAPTEK    V. 

THE    ARSENAL. 

As  the  conversation  had  been  animated  at  the  ball,  so  the 
silence  was  absolute  during  the  ride.  This  adventure, 
which  at  first  had  presented  itself  under  the  appearance  of 
an  amorous  intrigue,  had  immediately  assumed  a  graver 
aspect,  and  appeared  to  turn  toward  political  machinations. 
If  this  new  aspect  did  not  frighten  the  chevalier,  at  least 
it  gave  him  matter  for  reflection  ;  and  his  reflections  were 
the  more  profound  because  more  than  once  he  had  dreamed 
of  what  he  would  do  under  circumstances  like  those  he 
was  about  to  encounter. 

There  is  a  moment  in  the  life  of  every  man  which  de- 
cides upon  his  future.  This  moment,  important  as  it  is, 
is  rarely  prepared  by  calculation  or  directed  by  will.  It 
is  almost  always  chance  which  takes  a  man  as  the  wind 
does  a  leaf,  and  throws  him  into  some  new  and  unknown 
path,  where,  once  entered,  he  is  obliged  to  obey  a  su- 
perior force,  and  where,  while  believing  himself  free,  he 
is  but  the  slave  of  circumstances  and  the  plaything  of 
events. 

It  was  thus  with  the  chevalier?  We  have  seen  by  what 
gate  he  entered  Versailles,  and  how  interest  and  gratitude 
attached  him  to  the  party  of  the  old  court.  He  had  not 
calculated  the  good  or  the  harm  that  Madame  de  Main- 
tenon  had  done  to  France;  he  had  not  considered  the 
right  or  the  power  of  Louis  XIV.  to  legitimatize  his 
bastard   sons;    he   had   not   weighed  in  the  balance  of 


THE  ARSENAL.  47 

genealogy  Monsieur  du  Maine  and  Monsieur  d'Orleans ;  he 
had  felt  only  that  he  must  devote  his  life  to  those  who 
had  raised  him  from  obscurity.  And  when  the  old  king 
was  dead ;  when  he  learned  that  one  of  his  last  wishes  was 
that  Monsieur  le  Due  du  Maine  should  be  regent ;  when 
he  had  seen  those  last  wishes  overruled  by  the  parlia- 
ment, —  he  had  regarded  as  a  usurpation  Monsieur  le  Due 
d'Orleans's  accession  to  the  regency. 

Fully  expecting  an  armed  reaction  against  this  power, 
he  had  looked  around  through  all  France  to  see  the 
standard  unfolded  which  his  conscience  told  him  he  ought 
to  follow.  But  to  his  great  astonishment  nothing  that 
he  expected  happened.  Spain,  so  much  interested  to 
have  a  willing  friend  at  the  head  of  the  French  govern- 
ment, had  not  even  protested;  Monsieur  du  Maine, 
fatigued  by  his  brief  contest,  had  retired  into  the  shide ; 
Monsieur  de  Toulouse,  good,  easy,  and  almost  ashamed  of 
the  favors  which  had  fallen  to  the  share  of  himself  and 
his  brother,  would  not  permit  even  the  supposition  that 
he  could  put  himself  at  the  head  of  a  party.  The  Marechal 
de  Villeroy  had  made  a  feeble  and  unorganized  opposition. 
Villars  went  to  no  one,  but  waited  for  some  one  to  come 
to  him.  D'Uxelles  had  changed  sides,  and  had  accepted 
the  post  of  secretary  for.  foreign  affairs.  The  dukes  and 
peers  continued  patient,  and  paid  court  to  the  regent,  in 
the  hope  that  he  would  at  last  take  away  from  the  Dukes 
of  Maine  and  Toulouse,  as  he  had  promised,  the  precedence 
which  Louis  XIV.  had  given  them. 

Finally  there  was  discontent  with,  and  even  opposition 
to,  the  government  of  the  Due  d'Orleans,  but  all  im- 
palpable and  disjointed.  This  is  what  D'Harmental  had 
seen,  and  what  had  resheathed  his  half-drawn  sword  :  he 
thought  he  was  the  only  one  who  had  anticipated  another 
issue  to  affairs,  and  he  gradually  came  to  the  conclusion 


48  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

that  that  issue  had  no  existence  except  in  his  own  imagi- 
nation, since  those  who  should  have  been  most  interested 
in  that  result  seemed  to  regard  it  as  so  impossible  that 
they  did  not  even  attempt  to  attain  to  it. 

But  when  he  found  himself  deceived ;  when  upon  that 
smiling  surface  he  saw  grave  events  in  preparation ;  when 
he  saw  that  that  apparent  carelessness  was  only  a  veil 
concealing  the  operation  of  ambition,  —  then  his  hopes, 
which  he  had  thought  dead,  but  which  were  only  sleep- 
ing, murmured,  on  their  awaking,  promises  more  seductive 
than  ever  before.  Those  offers  made  to  him,  even  though 
perhaps  exaggerated,  that  future  promised  him,  improbable 
as  it  might  be,  had  excited  his  imagination.  Now,  to  one 
twenty-six  years  of  age,  imagination  is  a  strange  enchan- 
tress ;  it  is  the  architect  of  castles  in  the  air ;  it  is  the 
fairy  of  golden  dreams ;  it  is  the  queen  of  the  kingdom 
without  bounds ;  and  while  it  rests  gigantic  expectations 
on  the  frailest  support,  it  trusts  to  them  as  if  they  were 
based  on  the  earth's  solidity. 

Although  the  carriage  had  been  on  the  road  nearly  half 
an  hour,  the  chevalier  had  not  found  the  journey  long ; 
so  deep  were  his  reflections  that  even  if  his  eyes  had  not 
been  bandaged,  he  would  have  been  equally  ignorant  of 
what  streets  they  passed  through.  At  length  he  heard 
the  wheels  rumbling  as  if  they  were  passing  under  an 
arch.  He  heard  the  grating  of  hinges  as  the  gate  opened 
to  admit  him  and  closed  behind  him,  and  directly  after, 
the  carriage,  having  described  a  semi-circle,  stopped. 

"  Chevalier,"  said  his  guide,  "  if  you  have  any  fear, 
there  is  still  time  to  draw  back ;  if,  on  the  contrary,  you 
have  not  changed  your  resolution,  come  with  me." 

D'HarmentaVs  only  answer  was  to  extend  his  hand. 
The  footman  opened  the  door;  the  unknown  got  out 
first,  and   then    assisted   the   chevalier.      His   feet  soon 


THE  ARSENAL.  49 

encountered  some  steps ;  he  mounted  six,  —  still  con- 
ducted by  the  masked  lady,  —  crossed  a  vestibule,  passed 
through  a  corridor,  and  entered  a  room. 

"  We  have  now  arrived,"  said  the  unknown.  "  You 
remember  our  conditions  :  you  are  free  to  accept  or  refuse 
a  part  in  the  piece  about  to  be  played ;  but  in  case  of  a 
refusal,  you  promise  not  to  divulge  anything  you  may  see 
or  hear." 

"I  swear  it  on  my  honor,"  replied  the  chevalier. 

"  Now,  sit  down ;  wait  in  this  room,  and  do  not  re- 
move the  bandage  till  you  hear  two  o'clock  strike.  You 
have  not  long  to  wait." 

With  these  words  his  conductress  left  him.  Two  o'clock 
soon  struck,  and  the  chevalier  tore  off  the  bandage.  He 
was  alone  in  the  most  marvellous  boudoir  possible  to 
imagine.  It  was  small  and  octagonal,  hung  with  lilac  and 
silver,  with  furniture  and  portieres  of  tapestry.  His  eyes 
rested  on  buhl  tables  covered  with  splendid  china,  a  Per- 
sian carpet,  and  a  ceiling  painted  by  Watteau,  who  was 
then  coming  into  fashion.  At  this  sight  the  chevalier 
found  it  difficult  to  believe  that  he  had  been  summoned 
on  grave  matters,  and  almost  returned  to  his  first  ideas. 

At  this  moment  a  door  hidden  by  the  tapestry  was 
opened,  and  there  appeared  a  woman  whom,  in  the  fan- 
tastic preoccupation  of  his  spirit,  D'Harmental  might 
have  taken  for  a  fairy,  so  slight,  small,  and  delicate  was 
her  figure.  She  was  dressed  in  pearl-gray  satin  cov- 
ered with  bouquets,  so  beautifully  embroidered  that  at  a 
short  distance  they  appeared  like  natural  flowers ;  the 
flounces,  ruffles,  and  head-dress  were  of  English  point, 
adorned  with  pearls  and  diamonds.  Her  face  was  cov- 
ered with  a  half-mask  of  black  velvet,  from  which  hung 
a  fringe  of  black  lace. 

D'Harmental  bowed,  for  there  was  something  royal  in 

4 


50  LE  CHEVALIER   D'HARMENTAL. 

the  motions  and  the  appearance  of  this  woman,  which 
showed  him  that  the  other  had  been  only  an  envoy. 
"  Madame,"  said  he,  "  have  I  really,  as  I  begin  to  believe, 
left  the  earth  for  the  land  of  spirits,  and  are  you  the  pow- 
erful fairy  to  whom  this  beautiful  palace  belongs?" 

"  Alas,  Chevalier  ! "  replied  the  masked  lady,  in  gentle 
and  yet  positive  tones,  "lam  not  a  powerful  fairy,  but 
on  the  contrary  a  poor  princess,  persecuted  by  a  wicked 
enchanter,  who  has  taken  from  me  my  crown,  and  cruelly 
oppresses  my  kingdom.  Therefore  I  am  searching  every- 
where for  a  brave  knight  to  deliver  me ;  and  your  renown 
has  led  me  to  address  myself  to  you." 

"  If  my  life  only  is  needed  to  restore  you  your  past 
power,  Madame,"  replied  D'Harmental,  "  speak ;  I  am 
ready  to  risk  it  with  joy.  Who  is  this  enchanter  that  I 
must  combat,  —  this  giant  that  I  must  destroy  1  Since 
you  have  chosen  me  above  all,  I  will  prove  myself  worthy 
of  the  honor.  From  this  moment  I  engage  my  word, 
even  if  it  costs  me  my  life." 

"  If  you  lose  your  life,  Chevalier,  it  will  be  in  good 
company,"  said  the  lady,  untying  her  mask,  and  discov- 
ering her  face ;  "for  you  will  lose  it  with  the  son  of  Louis 
XIV.  and  the  granddaughter  of  the  great  Conde." 

"  Madame  la  Duchesse  du  Maine  ! "  cried  D'Harmental, 
falling  on  one  knee.  "  Will  your  Highness  pardon  me 
if,  not  knowing  you,  I  have  said  anything  which  may  fall 
short  of  the  profound  respect  I  feel  for  you  1 " 

"You  have  said  nothing  for  which  I  am  not  proud  and 
grateful,  Chevalier ;  but  perhaps  you  now  repent.  If  so, 
you  are  at  liberty  to  withdraw." 

"  Heaven  forbid,  Madame,  that  having  had  the  good 
fortune  to  engage  my  life  in  the  service  of  so  great  and 
noble  a  princess,  I  should  deprive  myself  of  the  greatest 
honor  I  ever  dared  to  hope  for !     No,  Madame ;  accept 


THE  ARSENAL.  51 

seriously,  I  pray  you,  what  just  now  I  offered  with  a 
smile,  —  my  arm,  my  sword,  and  my  life." 

"  I  see,"  said  the  Duchesse  du  Maine,  with  that  smile 
which  gave  her  such  power  over  all  who  approached  her, 
"that  the  Baron  de  Valef  did  not  deceive  me,  and  that 
you  are  all  that  he  said  in  describing  you.  Come,  I  will 
present  you  to  our  friends." 

The  duchess  went  first,  and  D'Harmental  followed,  aston- 
ished at  what  had  taken  place,  but  fully  resolved,  partly  from 
pride,  partly  from  conviction,  to  take  no  step  backward. 

The  duchess  conducted  him  to  a  salon  where  four 
personages  awaited  him.  These  were  the  Cardinal  de 
Polignac,  the  Marquis  de  Pompadour,  Monsieur  de 
Malezieux,  and  the  Abbe  Brigaud. 

The  Cardinal  de  Polignac  was  supposed  to  be  the  lover 
of  Madame  du  Maine.  He  was  a  handsome  prelate,  from 
forty  to  forty -five  years  of  age,  —  always  dressed  with  the 
greatest  care ;  possessed  of  an  unctuous  voice,  a  cold  face, 
and  a  timid  heart ;  devoured  by  ambition,  which  was  con- 
stantly thwarted  by  hesitancy  in  action  •  of  high  birth,  as 
his  name  indicated ;  very  learned  for  a  cardinal,  and  very 
well-informed  for  a  nobleman. 

Monsieur  de  Pompadour  was  a  man  of  from  forty-five 
to  fifty  years  old,  who  had  been  a  minion  of  the  dauphin, 
the  son  of  Louis  XIV.,  and  who  had  so  deep  love  and  so 
tender  veneration  for  all  the  family  of  the  "great  king" 
that  seeing  with  grief  that  the  regent  was  about  to  de- 
clare war  against  Philip  V.,  he  had  thrown  himself,  body 
and  soul,  into  the  Due  du  Maine's  party.  Proud  and  dis- 
interested, he  had  given  a  rare  example  of  loyalty  in 
sending  back  to  the  regent  the  brevet  of  his  pensions  and 
those  of  his  wife,  and  in  refusing  for  himself  and  the  Mar- 
quis de  Courcillon,  his  son-in-law,  every  place  offered  to 
them. 


D'2  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

Monsieur  de  Malezieux  was  a  man  from  sixty  to  sixty- 
five  }rears  old,  Chancellor  of  Dombes  and  Lord  of  Chatenay. 
He  owed  this  double  title  to  the  gratitude  of  Monsieur  le 
Due  du  Maine,  whose  education  he  had  conducted.  A 
poet,  a  musician,  an  author  of  small  comedies,  which  he 
played  himself  with  infinite  spirit ;  born  for  an  idle  and 
intellectual  life ;  always  occupied  in  procuring  pleasure 
for  others,  and,  above  all,  for  Madame  du  Maine,  whom  he 
adored,  —  he  was  a  type  of  the  Sybarite  of  the  eighteenth 
century ;  but  like  the  Sybarites  who,  drawn  by  the  aspect 
of  beauty,  followed  Cleopatra  to  Actium  and  were  killed 
around  her,  he  would  have  followed  his  dear  Benedicte 
through  fire  and  water,  and  at  a  word  from  her  would 
without  hesitation,  and  almost  without  regret,  have 
thrown  himself  from  the  towers  of  Notre  Dame. 

The  Abbe  Brigaud  was  the  son  of  a  Lyons  merchant. 
His  father,  who  was  commercially  related  with  the  court 
of  Spain,  was  charged  to  make*  overtures,  as  if  on  his  own 
account,  for  the  marriage  of  the  young  Louis  XIV.  with 
the  Infanta  Maria  Theresa  of  Austria.  If  these  overtures 
had  been  badly  received,  the  ministers  of  France  would 
have  disavowed  them ;  but  they  were  well  received,  and 
they  supported  them. 

The  marriage  took  place  ;  and  as  the  little  Brigaud  was 
born  about  the  same  time  as  the  dauphin,  his  father 
asked,  in  recompense  for  his  services,  that  the  king's  son 
should  stand  godfather  to  his  child,  and  that  favor 
was  graciously  accorded  to  him.  Moreover,  the  young 
Brigaud  was  placed  near  the  dauphin,  and  thus  he  be- 
came acquainted  with  the  Marquis  de  Pompadour,  who, 
as  we  have  said,  was  one  of  the  pages  of  honor.  When 
he  was  of  an  age  to  decide  on  his  profession,  he  joined  the 
Fathers  of  the  Oratory,  and  became  an  abbe.  He  was  a 
clever  and  an  ambitious   man,  but  as  often  happens  to 


THE  ARSENAL.  53 

the  greatest  geniuses,  he  had  never  had  an  opportunity 
of  making  himself  known. 

Some  time  before  the  period  of  which  we  are  writing, 
he  had  again  fallen  in  with  the  Marquis  de  Pompadour, 
who  was  seeking  a  man  of  spirit  and  enterprise  to  be  the 
secretary  of  Madame  du  Maine.  The  marquis  frankly 
showed  Brigaud  to  what  perils  the  situation  would  expose 
him  in  the  existing  condition  of  affairs.  Brigaud  weighed 
for  an  instant  the  good  and  the  evil  chances,  and  as  the 
former  appeared  to  predominate,  he  accepted  the  position.* 

Of  these  four  men,  D'Harmental  was  personally  ac- 
quainted with  only  the  Marquis  de  Pompadour,  whom  he 
had  often  met  at  the  house  of  Monsieur  de  Courcillon,  his 
son-in-law,  a  distant  relative  of  the  D'Harmentals. 

When  D'Harmental  entered  the  room,  Monsieur  de 
Polignac,  Monsieur  de  Malezieux,  and  Monsieur  de  Pom- 
padour were  standing  talking  at  the  fireplace,  and  the 
Abbe  Brigaud  was  seated  at  a  table  arranging  some 
papers. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  the  Duchesse  du  Maine,  "  here  is 
the  brave  champion  of  whom  the  Baron  de  Valef  has 
spoken  to  us,  and  who  has  been  brought  here  by  your 
dear  De  Launay,  Monsieur  de  Malezieux.  If  his  name 
and  antecedents  are  not  sufficient  to  stand  sponsor  for 
him,  I  will  answer  for  him  personally." 

"  Presented  thus  by  your  Highness,"  said  Malezieux, 
"  we  shall  see  in  him  not  only  a  companion,  but  a  chief, 
whom  we  are  ready  to  follow  wherever  he  may  lead." 

"  My  dear  D'Harmental,"  said  the  Marquis  de  Pompa- 
dour, extending  his  hand  to  him,  "  we  were  already  rela- 
tives, now  we  are  brothers." 

"  Welcome,  Monsieur !  "  said  the  Cardinal  de  Polignac, 
in  the  unctuous  tone  habitual  to  him,  and  which  con- 
trasted so  strangely  with  the  coldness  of  his  countenance. 


54  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

The  Abbe  Brigaud  raised  his  head,  turned  it  toward 
the  chevalier  with  a  movement  of  the  neck  like  that  of  a 
serpent,  and  fixed  on  D'Harmental  two  little  eyes,  brilliant 
as  those  of  the  lynx. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  D'Harmental,  after  answering  each 
of  them  by  a  bow,  "I  am  new  and  strange  among  you, 
and,  above  all,  ignorant  of  what  is  going  on,  or  in  what 
manner  I  can  serve  you ;  but  though  my  word  has  been 
engaged  to  you  for  only  a  few  minutes,  my  devotion  to 
your  cause  is  of  many  years'  standing.  I  beg  you,  there- 
fore, to  grant  me  the  confidence  so  graciously  claimed 
for  me  by  her  Highness.  All  that  I  shall  ask  after  that 
will  be  a  speedy  occasion  to  prove  myself  worthy 
of  it." 

"  Well  said ! "  cried  the  Duchesse  du  Maine ;  "  com- 
mend me  to  a  soldier  for  going  straight  to  the  point ! 
J^o,  Monsieur  d'Harmental,  we  will  have  no  secrets 
from  you ;  and  for  the  opportunity  you  require,  which 
will  place  each  of  us  in  our  proper  position,  we  shall 
not,  I  hope,  have  long  to  wait." 

"  Pardon,  Madame  la  Duchesse,"  interrupted  the  car- 
dinal, who  was  playing  uneasily  with  his  lace  cravat, 
"but  from  the  way  you  talk,  the  chevalier  will  think 
that  the  affair  is  a  conspiracy." 

"  And  what  is  it,  then,  Cardinal  ?  "  asked  the  duchess, 
impatiently. 

"  It  is,"  said  the  cardinal,  "  a  council,  —  secret,  it  is  true, 
but  in  no  degree  reprehensible,  —  in  which  we  only  seek 
a  means  of  remedying  the  misfortunes  of  the  State,  and 
enlightening  France  on  her  true  interests,  by  recalling  the 
last  will  of  King  Louis  XIV." 

"Stay,  Cardinal!"  said  the  duchess,  stamping  her 
foot ;  "  you  will  kill  me  with  impatience  by  your  cir- 
cumlocutions !      Chevalier,"    she    continued,    addressing 


THE  ARSENAL.  55 

D'Harmental,  "do  not  listen  to  his  Eminence,  who  at 
this  moment,  doubtless,  is  thinking  of  his  '  Anti-Lucrece.' 
If  it  had  been  a  simple  council,  the  talents  of  his  Emi- 
nence would  soon  have  extricated  us  from  our  troubles, 
and  we  should  have  had  no  need  of  you.  But  it  is  a 
genuine  conspiracy  against  the  regent,  —  a  conspiracy 
which  includes  the  King  of  Spain,  Cardinal  Alberoni, 
the  Due  du  Maine,  myself,  the  Marquis  de  Pompadour, 
Monsieur  de  Malezieux,  l'Abbe  Brigaud,  Valef,  yourself, 
the  cardinal  himself,  who  is  the  president,  and.  which 
will  include  half  the  parliament  and  three  parts  of  France. 
This  is  the  matter  in  hand,  Chevalier.  Are  you  content, 
Cardinal?     Have  I  spoken  clearly,  gentlemen?  " 

"  Madame  ! "  murmured  Malezieux,  joining  his  hands 
before  her  with  more  devotion  than  he  would  have  mani- 
fested before  the  Virgin. 

"No,  no  !  stop,  Malezeiux !  "  said  the  duchess;  "but 
the  cardinal  enrages  me  with  his ,  half-measures.  Mori 
Dieu!  are  these  eternal  waverings  worthy  of  a  man1? 
For  myself,  I  do  not  ask  a  sword,  I  do  not  ask  a  dagger ; 
give  me  but  a  nail,  and  I,  a  woman,  and  almost  a  dwarf, 
will  go,  like  a  new  Jael,  and  drive  it  into  the  temple  of 
this  other  Sisera.  Then  all  will  be  finished ;  and  if  I 
fail,  no  one  but  myself  will  be  compromised." 

Monsieur  de  Polignac  sighed  deeply ;  Pompadour  burst 
out  laughing ;  Malezieux  tried  to  calm  the  duchess ;  and 
Brigaud  bent  his  head,  and  went  on  writing  as  if  he  had 
heard  nothing.  As  to  D'Harmental,  he  would  have  kissed 
the  hem  of  her  dress,  so  superior  was  this  woman  in  his 
eyes  to  the  four  men  who  surrounded  her. 

At  this  moment  they  heard  the  sound  of  a  carriage, 
which  drove  into  the  courtyard  and  stopped  at  the  door. 
The  person  expected  was  doubtless  some  one  of  import- 
ance, for  there  was  an  instant  silence,  and  the  Duchesse 


56  LE  CHEVALIER   D'HARMENTAL. 

du  Maine,  in  her  impatience,  went  herself  to  open  the 
door. 

"Well?  "she  asked. 

"He  is  here,"  said  a  voice  in  the  corridor,  which 
D'Harmental  recognized  as  that  of  the  Bat. 

"Enter,  enter,  Prince/'  said  the  duchess;  "we  wait 
for  you." 


THE  PRINCE  DE  CELLAMARE.  57 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE    PRINCE    DE   CELLAMARE. 

Upon  this  invitation  there  entered  a  tall,  thin,  grave  man, 
of  dark  complexion,  who  at  a  single  glance  took  in  every- 
thing in  the  room,  animate  and  inanimate.  The  chevalier 
recognized  the  ambassador  of  their  Catholic  Majesties,  the 
Prince  de  Cellamare. 

"  Well,  Prince,"  asked  the  duchess,  "  what  have  you  to 
tell  us?" 

"I  have  to  tell  you,  Madame,"  replied  the  prince, 
kissing  her  hand  respectfully,  and  throwing  his  cloak  on 
a v chair,  "that  your  serene  Highness  had  better  change 
coachmen.  I  predict  misfortune  if  you  retain  in  your 
service  the  fellow  who  drove  me  here.  He  seems  to  me 
to  be  some  one  employed  by  the  regent  to  break  your 
Highness's  neck  and  those  of  your  friends." 

Every  one  began  to  laugh,  and  particularly  the  coach- 
man himself,  who,  without  ceremony,  had  entered  behind 
the  prince.  Throwing  his  hat  and  cloak  on  a  seat,  he 
showed  himself  a  man  of  high  bearing,  from  thirty-five 
to  forty  years  old,  with  the  lower  part  of  his  face  hidden 
by  a  black  handkerchief. 

"Do  you  hear,  my  dear  Laval,  what  the  prince  says 
of  you?"  asked  the  duchess. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  Laval ;  "  it  is  worth  while  to  give  him 
Montmorencies  to  be  treated  like  that.  Ah,  Monsieur  le 
Prince,  the  first  gentlemen  in  France  are  not  good  enough 
for  your  coachmen?     Pestef  you  are  difficult  to  please. 


58  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

Have  you  many  coachmen  at  Naples  who  date  from 
Robert  le  Fort]" 

"  What !  was  it  you,  my  dear  Count? "  said  the  prince, 
holding  out  his  hand  to  him. 

"  Myself,  Prince.  Madame  la  Duchesse  sent  away  her 
coachman  to  keep  Lent  with  his  family,  and  engaged  me 
for  this  night.     She  thought  it  safer." 

"  And  Madame  la  Duchesse  did  right,"  said  the  car- 
dinal.    "One  cannot  take  too  many  precautions." 

"Ah,  your  Eminence,"  said  Laval,  "I  should  like  to 
know  if  you  would  be  of  the  same  opinion  after  passing 
half  the  night  on  the  box  of  a  carriage,  first  to  bring  Mon- 
sieur d'Harniental  from  the  opera  ball,  and  then  to  take 
the  prince  from  the  Hotel  Colbert." 

"  What !  "  said  D'Harmental,  "  was  it  you,  Monsieur  le 
Comte,  who  had  the  goodness  —  " 

"  Yes,  young  man,"  replied  Laval,  "  it  was  I ;  and  I 
would  have  gone  to  the  end  of  the  world  to  bring  you 
here,  for  I  know  you.  You  are  a  gallant  gentleman  ;  you 
were  one  of  the  first  to  enter  Denain,  and  you  took  Albe- 
marle. You  were  fortunate  enough  not  to  leave  half  your 
jaw  there,  as  I  left  half  of  mine  in  Italy.  It  would  have 
been  a  further  motive  for  taking  away  your  regiment  — 
which  they  have  done,  however,  without  that  reason." 

"  We  will  restore  you  that,  Chevalier,  a  hundredfold, 
you  may  be  assured,"  said  the  duchess ;  "  but  now  let  us 
speak  of  Spain.  Prince,  you  have  news  from  Alberoni, 
Pompadour  tells  me." 

"  Yes,  your  Highness." 

"What  is  iU" 

"Both  good  and  bad.  His  Majesty  Philip  V.  is  in 
one  of  his  melancholy  moods,  and  will  not  determine 
upon  anything.  He  will  not  believe  in  the  treaty  of 
the  quadruple  alliance." 


THE  PRINCE  DE  CELLAMARE.  59 

*'  Will  not  believe  in  it ! "  cried  the  duchess ;  "  and  the 
treaty  ought  to  be  signed  now.  In  a  week  Dubois  will 
have  brought  it  here." 

"  I  know  it,  your  Highness,"  replied  Cellamare,  coldly ; 
"  but  his  Catholic  Majesty  does  not." 

"  Then  he  abandons  us  to  ourselves  % " 

"  Why  —  yes,  practically." 

"  What  becomes,  then,  of  the  queen's  fine  promises,  and 
the  empire  she  pretends  to  have  over  her  husband  1 " 

"  She  promises  to  prove  it  to  you,  Madame,"  replied  the 
prince,  "  when  something  is  done." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  Cardinal  de  Polignac ;  "  and  then  she 
will  fail  in  that  promise." 

"  No,  your  Eminence  ;  I  will  answer  for  her." 

"  What  I  see  most  clearly  in  all  this,"  said  Laval,  "  is 
that  we  must  compromise  the  king.  Once  compromised, 
he  must  go  on/ 

"  Now,  then,"  said  Cellamare,  "  we  are  coming  to 
business." 

"  But  bow  to  compromise  him,"  asked  the  Duchesse  du 
Maine,  "  without  a  letter  from  him,  without  even  a  verbal 
message,  and  at  five  hundred  leagues'  distance  % " 

"  Has  he  not  his  representative  at  Paris,  and  is  not 
that  representative  in  your  house  at  this  very  moment, 
Madame  \ " 

"  Prince,"  said  the  duchess,  "  you  have  more  extended 
powers  than  you  are  willing  to  admit." 

"  No ;  my  powers  are  limited  to  telling  you  that  the 
citadel  of  Toledo  and  the  fortress  of  Saragossa  are  at  your 
service.  Find  the  means  of  making  the  regent  enter  there, 
and  their  Catholic  Majesties  will  close  the  door  on  him 
so  securely  that  he  will  not  leave  it  again,  I  promise 
you." 

"  It  is  impossible,"  said  Monsieur  de  Polignac. 


GO  LE  CHEVALIER   D'HARMENTAL. 

"Impossible!  and  why?"  cried  D'Harmental.  "On 
the  contrary,  what  is  more  simple  1  Nothing  is  necessary 
but  eight  or  ten  determined  men,  a  well-closed  carriage, 
and  relays  to  Bayonne." 

"  I  have  already  offered  to  undertake  it,"  said  Laval. 

"  And  I,"  said  Pompadour. 

"  You  cannot,"  said  the  duchess ;  "  the  regent  knows 
you,   and  if  the  thing  failed,  you  would  be  lost." 

"  It  is  a  pity,"  said  Cellamare,  coldly ;  "  for  once 
arrived  at  Toledo  or  Saragossa,  there  is  greatness  in 
store  for  him  who  shall  have  succeeded." 

"  And  the  blue  ribbon,"  added  Madame  du  Maine,  "  on 
his  return  to  Paris." 

"  Oh,  silence,  I  beg,  Madame  !  "  said  D'Harmental ;  "  for 
if  your  Highness  says  such  things,  you  will  give  to  devo- 
tion the  air  of  ambition,  and  rob  it  of  all  its  merit.  I 
was  going  to  offer  myself  for  the  enterprise,  —  I,  who  am 
unknown  to  the  regent;  but  now  I  hesitate.  And  yet  I 
venture  to  believe  myself  worthy  of  the  confidence  of  your 
Highness,  and  able  to  justify  it." 

"  What,  Chevalier ! "  cried  the  duchess,  "  you  would 
risk  —  " 

"  My  life ;  it  is  all  I  have  to  risk.  I  thought  I  had 
already  offered  it,  and  that  your  Highness  had  accepted  it. 
Was  I  mistaken  1 " 

"  No,  no,  Chevalier,"  said  the  duchess,  quickly  ;  "  and 
you  are  a  brave  and  loyal  gentleman.  I  have  always 
believed  in  presentiments;  and  from  the  moment  Valef 
pronounced  your  name,  telling  me  that  you  were  what  I 
find  you  to  be,  I  had  a  presentiment  that  by  your  aid  we 
should  succeed.  Gentlemen,  you  hear  what  the  chevalier 
says  ;  in  what  can  you  assist  him  1 " 
- "  In  whatever  he  may  want,"  said  Laval  and  Pompadour. 

"  The  coffers  of  their  Catholic  Majesties  are  at  his  dis- 


THE  PRINCE  DE  CELLAMARE.  61 

posal,"  said  the  Prince  de  Cellamare,  "  and  he  may  make 
free  use  of  them." 

"  I  thank  you,  gentlemen/7  said  D'Harmental,  turning 
toward  the  Comte  de  Laval  and  the  Marquis  de  Pompa- 
dour ;  "  but  known  as  you  are,  you  would  only  make  the 
enterprise  more  difficult.  Occupy  yourselves  only  in  ob- 
taining for  me  a  passport  for  Spain,  as  if  I  had  the  charge 
of  some  prisoner  of  importance;  that  ought  to  be  easy." 

"  I  undertake  it,"  said  the  Abbe  Brigaud ;  "  I  will  get 
from  D'Argenson  a  paper  all  prepared,  which  will  need 
only  to  be  filled  in." 

"  Excellent  Brigaud  !  "  said  Pompadour  ;  "  he  does  not 
speak  often,  but  he  speaks  to  the  purpose." 

"It  is  he  who  should  be  made  cardinal,"  said  the 
duchess,  "  rather  than  certain  great  noblemen  of  my 
acquaintance ;  but  as  soon  as  we  can  dispose  of  the  blue 
and  the  red,  be  easy,  gentlemen,  we  shall  not  be  miserly. 
Now,  Chevalier,  you  have  heard  what  the  prince  said. 
If  you  want  money  —  " 

"  Unfortunately,"  replied  D'Harmental,  "  I  am  not  rich 
enough  to  refuse  his  Excellency's  offer,  and  when  I  have 
arrived  at  the  end  of  about  a  thousand  pistoles  which  I 
have  at  home,  I  must  have  recourse  to  you." 

"  To  him,  to  me,  to  us  all,  Chevalier ;  for  each  one  in 
such  circumstances  should  tax  himself  according  to  his 
means.  I  have  little  ready  money,  but  I  have  many 
diamonds  and  pearls;  therefore  want  for  nothing,  I  beg. 
All  the  world  has  not  your  disinterestedness,  and  there 
are  services  which  must  be  bought  with  gold." 

"  But,  Monsieur,"  said  the  cardinal,  "  have  you  reflected 
on  the  enterprise  you  are  undertaking?  If  you  should 
be  caught ! " 

"  Your  Eminence  need  have  no  concern,"  replied  D'Har- 
mental, contemptuously.     "I    have  sufficient  grounds  of 


62  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

complaint  against  the  regent  for  it  to  be  believed,  if  I 
were  taken,  that  it  was  an  affair  between  him  and  me, 
and  that  my  vengeance  was  entirely  personal." 

"But,"  said  the  Comte  de  Laval,  "you  must  have  an 
assistant  of  some  kind  in  this  enterprise,  —  some  one  on 
whom  you  can  count.     Have  you  any  one?" 

"  I  think  so,"  replied  D'Harniental.  "  However,  I  must 
be  informed  every  morning  what  the  regent  will  do  in  the 
evening.  Monsieur  le  Prince  de  Cellamare,  as  ambassador, 
must  have  his  secret  police." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  prince,  embarrassed,  "  I  have  a  few 
persons  who  report  to  me  — " 

"  That  is  just  the  thing  !  "  said  D'Harmental. 

"  Where  do  you  lodge  ]  "  asked  the  cardinal. 

"At  my  own  house,  Monseigneur,  Rue  de  Richelieu, 
No.  74." 

"  And  how  long  have  you  lived  there  1 " 

"  Three  years." 

"  Then  you  are  too  well  known  there,  Monsieur ;  you 
must  change  quarters.  The  persons  who  visit  you  there 
are  known,  and  the  sight  of  strange  faces  would  give  rise 
to  questions." 

"  This  time  your  Eminence  is  right,"  said  D'Harmental. 
"I  will  seek  another  lodging  in  some  retired  neighbor- 
hood." 

"  I  will  take  care  of  that,"  said  Brigaud  ;  "  my  costume 
does  not  excite  suspicion.  I  will  engage  you  a  lodging 
as  if  for  a  young  man  from  the  country,  who  has  been 
recommended  to  me,  and  has  come  to  occupy  a  place  in 
an  office." 

"  Truly,  my  dear  Brigaud,"  said  the  Marquis  de  Pompa- 
dour, "you  are  like  the  princess  in  the  '  Arabian  Nights,' 
who  never  opened  her  mouth  but  to  drop  pearls." 

"Well,  it  is  a  settled  thing,  Monsieur  PAbbe,"  said 


THE  PRINCE  DE  CELL  AM  ARE.  63 

D'Harmental ;  "  I  reckon  on  you,  and  I  shall  announce 
at  home  that  I  am  going  to  leave  Paris  for  a  three  months' 
trip." 

"Everything  is  settled,  then,"  said  the  Duchesse  du 
Maine,  joyfully.  "  This  is  the  first  time  that  I  have  been 
able  to  see  clearly  into  our  affairs,  Chevalier,  and  we  owe 
it  to  you.     I  will  not  forget  it." 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  Malezieux,  pulling  out  his  watch, 
"  I  would  observe  that  it  is  four  o'clock  in  the  morning, 
and  that  we  shall  kill  our  dear  duchess  with  fatigue." 

"  You  are  mistaken,"  said  the  duchess ;  "  such  nights 
rest  me,  and  it  is  long  since  I  have  spent  one  so  pleasantly." 

11  Prince,"  said  Laval,  "  you  must  be  contented  with  the 
coachman  whom  yo.u  wished  discharged,  unless  you  would 
prefer  driving  yourself,  or  going  on  foot." 

"No,  indeed,"  said  the  prince;  "I  will  risk  it.  I  am 
a  Neapolitan,  and  believe  in  omens.  If  you  overturn  me, 
it  will  be  a  sign  that  we  must  stay  where  we  are ;  if  you 
conduct  me  safely,  it  will  be  a  sign  that  we  may  go  on." 

"  Pompadour,  will  you  take  back  Monsieur  d'Har- 
mental1?"    said  the  duchess. 

"  Willingly,"  said  the  marquis.  "  It  is  a  long  time 
since  we  met,  and  we  have  a  hundred  things  to  say  to 
each  other." 

"  Cannot  I  take  leave  of  my  sprightly  Bat  *? "  asked 
D'Harmental ;  "  for  I  do  not  forget  that  it  is  to  her  I 
owe  the  happiness  of  having  offered  my  services  to  your 
Highness." 

"  De  Launay ! "  cried  the  duchess,  conducting  the 
Prince  de  Cellamare  and  the  Comte  de  Laval  to  the 
door,  "  De  Launay,  here  is  Monsieur  le  Chevalier  d'Har- 
mental,  who  says  you  are  the  greatest  sorceress  he  has 
ever  known." 

"  Well !  "    said   she   who  has  left  us   such   charming 


64  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

memoirs,  under  the  name  of  Madame  de  Staal,  "  do  you 
believe  in  my  prophecies  now,  Monsieur  le  Chevalier1?" 

"  I  believe,  because  I  hope,"  replied  the  chevalier. 
"  But  now  that  I  know  the  fairy  that  sent  you,  it  is  not 
your  predictions  that  astonish  me  the  most.  How  were 
you  so  well  informed  about  the  past,  and  above  all,  about 
the  present  V 

"Well,  De  Launay,"  said  the  duchess,  smiling,  "be 
kind,  and  do  not  torment  the  chevalier  any  longer,  or  he 
will  believe  us  to  be  two  witches,  and  will  be  afraid 
of  us." 

"Was  there  not  one  of  your  friends,  Chevalier,"  asked 
Mademoiselle  de  Launay,  "  who  left  you  this  morning  in 
the  Bois  de  Boulogne  to  come  and  say  adieu  to  us  1 " 

"Valef!  It  is  Valef!"  cried  D'Harmental.  "I  un- 
derstand now." 

"  See,  now  !  "  said  Madame  du  Maine,  "  in  the  place  of 
CEdipus  you  would  have  been  devoured  ten  times  over  by 
the  Sphinx." 

"  But  the  mathematics ;  but  the  anatomy ;  but  Virgil  1 " 
replied  D'Harmental. 

"  Do  you  not  know,  Chevalier,"  said  Malezieux,  mixing 
in  the  conversation,  "  that  we  never  call  her  anything  here 
but  our  savante  ?  —  with  the  exception  of  Chaulieu,  who 
calls  her  his  flirt,  and  his  coquette ;  but  all  by  way  of 
poetical  license." 

"  Why,"  added  the  duchess,  "  the  other  day  we  let  her 
loose  on  Duvernoy,  our  doctor,  and'  she  beat  him  at 
anatomy ! " 

"  And,"  said  the  Marquis  de  Pompadour,  taking  D'Har- 
mental's  arm  to  lead  him  away,  "  the  good  man,  in  his 
disappointment,  declared  that  there  was  no  other  girl  in 
France  who  understood  the  human  frame  so  well." 

"  Ah,"   said   the    Abbe   Brigaud,    folding   his   papers, 


THE  PRINCE  DE  CELLAMARE.  65 

"  here  is  the  first  savant  on  record  who  has  heen  known 
to  make  a  bon-mot.     It  is  true,  he  did  not  intend  it." 

And  D'Harmental  and  Pompadour,  having  taken  leave 
of  the  duchess,  retired  laughing,  followed  by  the  Abbe 
Brigaud,  who  reckoned  on  them  to  drive  him  home. 

"  Well,"  said  Madame  du  Maine,  addressing  the  Cardi- 
nal de  Polignac,  "  does  your  Eminence  still  find  it  such  a 
terrible  thing  to  conspire  ? " 

"  Madame,"  replied  the  cardinal,  who  could  not  under- 
stand that  any  one  could  laugh  when  his  head  was  in 
danger,  "  I  will  ask  you  the  same  question  when  we  are 
all  in  the  Bastille."  And  he  went  away  with  the  good 
chancellor,  deploring  the  ill-luck  which  had  thrown  him 
into  such  a  rash  enterprise. 

The  duchess  looked  after  him  with  a  contempt  which 
she  could  not  disguise ;  then  when  she  was  alone  with 
Mademoiselle  de  Launay,  "  My  dear  Sophie,"  said  she, 
joyously,  "  let  us  put  out  our  lantern,  for  I  think  that  at 
last  we  have  found  a  man ! " 


66  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 


CHAPTER    VII. 

ALBERONI. 

When   D'Harmental  awoke,  he  thought  he  had  had  a 
dream.     Events  had,  during  the  last  thirty-six  hours,  suc- 
ceeded one  another  with  such  rapidity  that  he  had  been 
carried  away,  as  by  a  whirlpool,  without  knowing  whither  , 
he  was  going.     Now,  for  the  first  time,  he  had  leisure  to  - 
reflect  on  the  past  and  the  future. 

We  are  living  in  a  time  when  every  one  has  conspired 
more  or  less.  We  know,  therefore,  from  our  own  experi- 
ence what  the  natural  process  is  in  such  cases.  After 
entering  upon  an  engagement  in  a  moment  of  exaltation, 
one's  first  feeling,  as  he  glances  at  his  new  position,  is  a 
feeling  of  regret  for  having  been  so  forward.  Then  by 
degrees  one  familiarizes  himself  with  the  idea  of  the 
dangers  to  which  he  is  exposed.  Imagination,  always 
so  indulgent,  removes  them  from  sight,  and  presents  in- 
stead the  ambitions  that  may  be  fulfilled.  Then  pride 
steps  in  ;  one  understands  that  he  has  suddenly  become  a 
secret  power  in  that  State  in  which  yesterday  he  was 
nothing  at  all.  He  walks/ along  proudly,  with  head  erect, 
passing  contemptuously  those  who  lead  an  ordinary  life ; 
he  cradles  himself  in  his  hopes ;  he  sleeps  in  the  clouds  ; 
and  some  day  he  wakes  conquering  or  conquered,  —  car- 
ried on  the  shoulders  of  the  people,  or  broken  by  the 
wheels  of  that  machine  called  the  government. 

Thus  it  was  with  D'Harmental.  The  age  in  which  he 
lived  saw  the  League  on  its  horizon,  and  almost  touched 


ALBERONI.  67 

the  Fronde.  A  single  generation  of  men  had  intervened 
since  the  cannon  of  the  Bastille  had  supported  the  rebel- 
lion of  the  great  Conde.  During  that  interval  Louis 
XIV.  had  filled  the  scene,  it  is  true,  with  his  omnipotent 
will ;  but  Louis  XIV.  was  no  more,  and  the  grandchildren 
thought  that  on  the  same  theatre  of  action,  and  with  the 
same  machines,  they  could  play  the  same  game  their 
fathers  had  played. 

After  a  few  moments'  reflection,  D'Harmental  saw 
things  in  the  same  light  in  which  he  had  seen  them 
the  day  before,  and  congratulated  himself  upon  having 
taken  the  highest  place  among  such  people  as  the  Mont- 
morencies  and  the  Polignacs.  His  family  bad  transmitted 
to  him  much  of  that  adventurous  chivalry  so  greatly  in 
vogue  under  Louis  XIII.,  and  which  Richelieu  with  his 
scaffolds,  and  Louis  XIV.  with  his  antechambers,  had  not 
quite  been  able  to  destroy.  There  was  something  roman- 
tic in  enlisting  himself,  a  young  man,  under  the  banners 
of  a  woman,  and  that  woman  a  granddaughter  of  the 
great  Conde.  And  besides,  one  holds  so  lightly  to  life 
at  twenty-six  years  of  age,  that  he  is  continually  risking 
it  in  enterprises  far  less  serious  than  that  in  which 
D'Harmental  had  become  the  chief. 

D'Harmental  resolved  to  lose  no  time  in  preparing  to 
keep  the  promises  he  had  made.  He  did  not  conceal 
from  himself  that  from  that  moment  he  belonged  to  him- 
self no  longer ;  that  the  eyes  of  all  the  conspirators,  from 
Philip  V.  to  the  Abbe  Brigaud,  were  upon  him  ;  and  that 
on  his  courage  and  prudence  depended  the  destinies  of 
two  kingdoms  and  the  politics  of  the  world. 

At  this  epoch  the  regent  was  the  keystone  of  the  arch^ 
of  the  European  edifice ;   and  France  was  beginning  to 
take,  if  not  by  arms,  at  least  by  diplomacy,  that  influence 
which    she    had   unfortunately   not  always   maintained. 


68  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

Placed  at  the  centre  of  the  triangle  formed  by  the  three 
great  powers,  with  eyes  fixed  on  Germany,  one  arm  ex- 
tended  toward  England,  and  the  other  toward  Spain, 
ready  to  turn  on  any  one  of  these  three  States  that  should 
not  treat  her  according  to  her  dignity,  she  had  as- 
sumed, under  the  Due  d' Orleans,  an  attitude  of  calm 
strength  which  she  had  never  had,  even  under  Louis 
XIV. 

This  arose  from  the  division  of  interests  consequent  on 
the  usurpation  of  William  of  Orange,  and  the  accession  of 
Philip  V.  to  the  throne  ot  Spain.  Faithful  to  his  old 
hatred  against  the  stadtholder  of  Holland,  who  had  re- 
fused him  his  daughter,  Louis  XIV.  had  constantly  ad- 
vanced the  pretensions  of  James  II.,  and  after  his  death, 
of  the  Chevalier  de  Saint-George.  Faithful  to  his  com- 
pact with  Philip  V.,  he  had  constantly  aided  his  grandson 
against  the  emperor,  with  men  and  money ;  and  weak- 
ened by  this  double  war,  he  had  been  reduced  to  the 
shameful  treaty  of  Utrecht.  But  at  the  death  of  the  old 
king  all  was  changed,  and  the  regent  had  adopted  a  very 
different  line  of  conduct.  The  treaty  of  Utrecht  was  only 
a  truce,  which  had  been  broken  from  the  moment  when 
England  and  Holland  did  not  pursue  common  interests 
with  those  of  France. 

In  consequence,  the  regent  had  first  of  all  held  out  his 
hand  to  George  I.,  and  the  treaty  of  the  triple  alliance 
had  been  signed  at  La  Haj^e,  —  by  Dubois  in  the  name  of 
France,  by  General  Cadogan  for  England,  and  by  the  pen- 
sionary Heinsius  for  Holland.  This  was  a  great  step 
toward  the  pacification  of  Europe,  but  it  was  not  final ; 
the  interests  of  Austria  and  Spain  were  still  in  suspense. 
Charles  VI.'  would  not  recognize  Philip  V.  as  King  of 
Spain ;  and  Philip  V.,  on  his  part,  would  not  renounce 
his  rights  over  those  provinces  of  the  Spanish  empire 


ALBERONI.  69 

which  the  treaty  of  Utrecht,  to  the  injury  of  the  throne 
of  Philip  II.,  had  ceded  to  the  emperor. 

The  regent  strove,  by  friendly  negotiations,  to  bring 
Charles  VI.  to  recognize  Philip  V.  as  King  of  Spain,  and 
proposed,  by  the  use  of  force  if  necessary,  to  induce  Philip 
V.  to  abandon  his  pretensions  to  the  provinces  transferred 
to  the  emperor. 

It  was  in  the  hope  of  bringing  these  things  about  that 
the  regent  had  sent  Dubois  to  London,  where  he  was  pro- 
moting the  treaty  of  the  quadruple  alliance  with  even 
more  zeal  than  he  had  bestowed  on  that  of  La  Haye. 

Now,  this  treaty  of  the  quadruple  alliance,  in  uniting 
the  interests  of  France,  England,  Holland,  and  the  em- 
pire, would  nullify  every  claim  of  any  other  State  which 
was  not  approved  by  the  four  powers.  In  this  possibility 
were  involved  all  the  apprehensions  of  Philip  V.,  or 
rather,  of  Cardinal  Alberoni ;  for  as  to  Philip  V.,  if  only 
he  had  a  woman's  company  and  a  prie-Dieu,  he  was  but 
little  concerned  with  what  took  place  elsewhere  than  in 
his  chamber  and  his  chapel. 

But  it  was  not  so  with  Alberoni.  His  was  one  of  those 
extraordinary  fortunes  which  one  sees,  always  with  new 
astonishment,  spring  up  around  a  throne,  —  one  of  those 
caprices  of  destiny  which  chance  raises  and  destroys ; 
like  a  gigantic  waterspout,  which  advances  on  the  ocean, 
threatening  to  annihilate  everything,  but  which  is  dis- 
persed into  vapor  by  a  stone  thrown  from  the  hand  of  a 
sailor  ;  or  like  an  avalanche,  which  threatens  to  swallow 
towns  and  fill  up  valleys,  because  a  bird  in  its  flight  has 
detached  a  flake  of  snow  on  the  summit  of  the  mountain. 

A  curious  history  might  be  written  of  great  results  pro- 
duced by  trivial  causes  from  the  time  of  the  Greeks  down 
to  our  own  day.  The  love  of  Helen  brought  on  the  Tro- 
jan War,  and  changed  the  destiny  of  Greece.     The  viola* 


TO  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

tion  of  Lucretia  drove  the  Tarquina  from  Rome.  An 
insulted  husband  conducted  Brennus  to  the  Capitoline 
Hill.  La  Cava  introduced  the  Moors  into  Spain.  A  poor 
jest  written  by  a  young  fop  upon  the  chair  of  an  old  Doge 
nearly  overthrew  Venice.  The  escape  of  Dearbhorgil  with 
Mac-Murchad  led  to  the  subjugation  of  Ireland.  The 
order  given  to  Cromwell  to  leave  the  vessel  on  which 
he  had  already  embarked  for  America  resulted  in  the  ex- 
ecution of  Charles  I.  and  the  fall  of  the  Stuarts.  A  dis- 
cussion between  Louis  XIV.  and  Louvois  about  a  window 
of  Trianon  caused  the  Holland  War.  A  glass  of  water 
spilled  upon  the  dress  of  Mistress  Marsham  deprived  the 
Duke  of  Marlborough  of  his  command,  and  saved  France 
by  the  treaty  of  Utrecht.  In  short,  Europe  was  almost  in- 
volved in  war  because  Monsieur  de  Vendome  had  received 
the  Bishop  of  Parma  while  seated  upon  his  commode. 

This  last-mentioned  incident  was  the  beginning  of 
Alberoni's  fortune. 

Alberoni  was  born  in  a  gardener's  cottage,  and  as  a 
child  he  was  the  bell-ringer.  When  still  a  young  man, 
he  exchanged  his  smock-frock  for  a  surplice.  He  was  of 
a  merry  and  jesting  disposition.  The  Duke  of  Parma 
heard  him  laugh  one  day  so  gayly  that  the  poor  duke, 
who  did  not  laugh  every  day,  asked  who  it  was  that  was 
so  merry,  and  had  him  called.  Alberoni  related  to  him 
some  grotesque  adventure.  His  Highness  laughed  heart- 
ily, and  finding  that  it  was  pleasant  to  laugh  sometimes, 
attached  him  to  his  person.  Little  by  little,  while  amus- 
ing himself  with  his  jester's  tales,  the  duke  discovered 
that  the  fellow  had  talent,  and  he  fancied  that  this  talent 
was  applicable  to  public  affairs. 

It  was  at  this  time  that  the  poor  Bishop  of  Parma  came 
back,  deeply  mortified  at  his  reception  by  the  general- 
issimo of  the  French  army.     The  susceptibility  of  this 


ALBERONI.  71 

envoy  might  compromise  the  grave  interests  which  his 
Highness  had  to  discuss  with  France.  His  Highness 
judged  that  Alberoni  was  a  man  whom  nothing  could 
humiliate,  and  he  sent  the  abbe  to  finish  the  negotiation 
which  the  bishop  had  left  unfinished. 

Monsieur  de  Vendome,  who  had  not  put  himself  out  for 
a  bishop,  did  not  do  so  for  an  abbe,  and  received  the 
second  ambassador  as  he  had  the  first;  but  instead  of 
following  the  example  of  his  predecessor,  Alberoni  found 
in  Monsieur  de  Vendome's  own  situation  so  much  material 
for  merry  jests  and  exaggerated  commendation  that  the 
affair  was  finished  at  once,  and  he  came  back  to  the  duke 
with  everything  arranged  according  to  his  wishes. 

The  duke  found  in  this  success  a  reason  for  employing 
him  again.  This  time  Alberoni  found  Monsieur  de  Ven- 
dome about  sitting  down  to  table,  and  instead  of  begin- 
ning at  once  upon  business,  asked  him  if  he  would  taste 
two  dishes  of  his  cooking  j  he  then  went  into  the  kitchen, 
and  came  back  with  a  soupe  au  fromage  in  one  hand,  and 
macaroni  in  the  other.  Monsieur  de  Vendome  found  the 
soup  so  good  that  he  asked  Alberoni  to  take  some  with 
him  at  his  own  table.  At  dessert  Alberoni  introduced  his 
business ;  and  profiting  by  the  favorable  disposition  which 
the  dinner  had  created  in  Monsieur  de  Vendome,  he 
twisted  him  round  his  finger. 

His  Highness  was  astonished.  The  greatest  genius  he 
had  met  with  never  had  done  so  much. 

Alberoni  had  carefully  refrained  from  leaving  his  re- 
ceipt behind  him  ;  so  that  the  next  time  it  was  Monsieur 
de  Vendome  who  asked  the  Duke  of  Parma  if  he  had 
nothing  else  to  negotiate  with  him.  His  Highness  had 
little  difficulty  in  finding  reasons  for  a  third  embassy, 
and  sent  Alberoni  again.  The  latter  was  able  to  persuade 
his  sovereign  that  he  would  be  more  useful  to  him  near 


72  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

Monsieur  de  Vendome  than  elsewhere,  and  he  persuaded 
Monsieur  de  Vendome  that  he  could  not  exist  without 
soupe  au  fromage  and  macaroni.  Monsieur  de  Vendome 
attached  him  to  his  service,  allowed  him  to  become  ac- 
quainted with  his  most  secret  affairs,  and  made  him  his 
chief  secretary. 

At  length  Monsieur  de  Vendome  left  for  Spain.  Al- 
beroni  put  himself  in  communication  with  Madame  des 
Ursins;  and  when  Vendome  died,  in  1712,  at  Tignaros, 
she  gave  him,  near  her,  the  same  post  he  had  occupied 
near  the  deceased. 

This  was  another  step.  The  Princesse  des  Ursins  be- 
gan to  get  old,  —  an  unpardonable  crime  in  the  eyes  of  ; 
Philip  V.  She  resolved  to  find,  to  replace  Marie  de 
Savoie,  a  young  woman,  through  whom  she  might  con- 
tinue to  reign  over  the  king.  Alberoni  proposed  the 
daughter  of  his  old  master,  wrhom  he  represented  to  be 
a  child  without  character  and  without  will,  who  would 
claim  nothing  of  royalty  but  the  name.  The  princess  was 
taken  by  this  promise.  The  marriage  was  decided  on, 
and  the  young  princess  left  Italy  for  Spain. 

Her  first  act  of  authority  was  to  arrest  the  Princesse  des 
Ursins,  who  had  come  to  meet  her  in  a  court  dress,  and  to 
send  her  back  as  she  was,  with  her  neck  uncovered,  in  a 
bitter  frost,  in  a  carriage  of  which  the  guard  had  broken 
the  window  with  his  elbow,  first  to  Burgos,  and  then  to 
France,  —  where  she  arrived  after  having  been  obliged  to 
borrow  fifty  pistoles  from  her  servants.  Her  coachman 
had  his  arm  frozen,  and  it  was  cut  off. 

After  his  first  interview  with  Elizabeth  Farnese,  the 
king  announced  to  Alberoni  that  he  was  prime  minister. 
From  that  day,  thanks  to  the  young  queen,  who  owed 
him  everything,  the  ex-ringer  of  bells  exercised  an  un- 
limited empire  over  Philip  V. 


ALBERONI.  73 

Now  this  was  the  dream  of  Alberoni,  who  had  always 
prevented  Philip  V.  from  recognizing  the  peace  of  Utrecht : 
if  the  conspiracy  succeeded,  —  if  D'Harmental  carried  off 
the  Due  d'Orleans,  and  took  him  to  the  citadel  of  Toledo, 
or  the  fortress  of  Saragossa,  —  Alberoni  would  get  Mon- 
sieur du  Maine  recognized  as  regent,  would  withdraw 
France  from  the  quadruple  alliance,  throw  the  Chevalier 
de  Saint-George  with  the  fleet  on  the  English  coast,  and 
set  Prussia,  Sweden,  and  Russia,  with  whom  he  had  a 
treaty  of  alliance,  at  variance  with  Holland.  The  empire 
would  then  profit  by  their  dispute  to  retake  Naples  and 
Sicily,  would  assure  Tuscany  to  the  second  son  of  the 
King  of  Spain,  would  reunite  the  Catholic  Netherlands 
to  France,  give  Sardinia  to  the  Dukes  of  Savoy,  Com- 
machio  to  the  Pope,  and  Mantua  to  the  Venetians.  He 
would  make  himself  the  soul  of  the  great  league  of  the 
South  against  the  North,  and  if  Louis  XV.  died,  would 
crown  Philip  V.  king  of  half  the  world. 

It  must  be  confessed  that  this  was  not  badly  planned 
for  a  cook.  v 


74  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

A   PACHA   OF    OUR   ACQUAINTANCE. 

All  these  affairs  were  now  in  the  hands  of  a  young  man 
twenty-six  years  of  age  j  and  naturally,  he  was  at  first 
somewhat  dismayed  in  view  of  the  responsibility  which 
weighed  upon  him.  While  he  was  sounding  the  depth  of 
his  perplexities,  the  Abbe  Brigaud  entered.  He  had  al- 
ready found  a  lodging  for  the  chevalier  at  No.  5  Rue  du 
Temps-Perdu,  — a  small  furnished  room,  suitable  to  a 
young  man  from  the  country,  who  came  to  seek  his  for- 
tune in  Paris.  He  brought  him  also  two  thousand  pistoles 
from  the  Prince  de  Cellamare. 

D'Harmental  wished  to  refuse  them,  for  it  seemed  to 
him  that  if  he  should  accept  them  he  would  be  simply 
serving  for  wages,  instead  of  yielding  to  the  impulses  of 
conscience  and  devotion  ;  but  the  Abbe  Brigaud  explained 
to  him  that  in  such  an  enterprise  there  are  susceptibilities 
to  conquer,  and  accomplices  to  pay ;  and  that  besides,  if 
the  affair  succeeded,  he  would  have  to  set  out  instantly 
for  Spain,  and  perhaps  make  his  way  by  force  of  gold. 
Brigaud  carried  away  a  complete  suit  of  the  chevalier's, 
as  a  pattern  for  a  new  one  suitable  for  a  clerk  in  an  office. 
The  Abbe  Brigaud  was  a  useful  man. 

D'Harmental  passed  the  rest  of  the  day  in  preparing  for 
his  pretended  journey,  and  destroyed,  to  guard  against 
accident,  every  letter  which  might  compromise  a  friend. 
When  night  came  on,  he  went  toward  the  Rue  St.  Honore, 


A  PACHA  OF  OUR  ACQUAINTANCE.  75 

where  —  thanks  to  La  Normande  —  he  hoped  to  have 
news  of  Captain  Roquefinette.  In  fact,  from  the  moment 
that  a  lieutenant  for  his  enterprise  had  been  spoken  of, 
he  had  thought  of  this  man,  who  had  given  him,  as  his 
second,  a  proof  of  his  careless  courage.  He  had  instantly 
recognized  in  him  one  of  those  adventurers  who  are  always 
ready  to  sell  their  blood  for  a  good  price,  and  who  in 
time  of  peace,  when  their  swords  are  useless  to  the  State, 
place  them  at  the  service  of  individuals.  Such  a  man 
must  have  secret  relations  with  those  nameless  persons 
who  form  the  groundwork  of  conspiracies,  —  machines 
who  are  put  in  operation  without  knowing  either  by  what 
spring  they  are  started  into  action  or  what  results  they 
produce ;  and  who,  whether  the  affair  fails  or  succeeds, 
disperse  as  soon  as  it  comes  to  a  head,  sinking  into  the 
popular  abyss,  like  ghosts  dropping  through  trap-doors  on 
the  stage  of  a  theatre.  On  becoming  a  conspirator,  one 
always  becomes  superstitious;  and  D'Harmental  fancied 
that  it  was  an  intervention  of  Providence  which  had  in- 
troduced him  to  Roquefinette. 

The  chevalier,  without  being  a  regular  customer,  went 
occasionally  to  the  tavern  of  La  Fillon.  It  was  quite 
fashionable  at  that  time  to  go  and  drink  at  her  house. 
D'Harmental  was  to  her  neither  her  "son,"  —  a  name 
which  she  gave  to  all  her  regular  visitors,  —  nor  her 
"gossip,"  as  she  called  Abbe  Dubois,  but  simply  Mon- 
sieur le  Chevalier,  —  a  mark  of  respect  which  would  have 
been  considered  rather  a  humiliation  by  most  of  the  young 
men  of  fashion.  La  Fillon  was  therefore  somewhat  sur- 
prised when  D'Harmental  asked  to  see  one  of  her  boarders, 
called  La  Normande. 

"  Oh,  mon  Dieu,  Monsieur  le  Chevalier !  "  said  she, 
"  I  am  really  distressed ;  but  La  Normande  has  just 
been    engaged    until   to-morrow  evening." 


76  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

"  Peste  /  "  said  the  chevalier,  "  what  madness  !  " 

"  Oh,  it  is  not  madness,"  replied  La  Fill  on ;  "it  is  a 
caprice  of  an  old  friend  to  whom  I  am  devoted." 

"  When  he  has  money,  I  suppose  1 " 

"  You  are  mistaken.  I  give  him  credit  up  to  a  certain 
sum.  It  is  a  weakness,  but  one  cannot  help  being  grate- 
ful. He  started  me  in  the  world  ;  for  though  you  see 
me  now,  Monsieur  le  Chevalier,  receiving  in  my  house  the 
best  people  in  Paris,  including  the  regent,  yet  I  am  only  the 
daughter  of  a  poor  chair-bearer.  Oh,  I  am  not  like  your 
beautiful  duchesses  who  deny  their  origin  ;  nor  like  your 
dukes  and  peers  who  fabricate  genealogies  for  themselves. 
No,  what  I  am,  I  owe  to  my  own  merit ;  and  I  am  proud 
of  it." 

"Then,"  said  the  chevalier,  who  was  not  particularly 
interested  in  La  Fillon's  history,  "  you  say  that  La 
Normande  will  be  here  to-morrow  evening  1 '' 

"  She  is  here,  Monsieur,  —  she  is  here ;  only,  as  I  told 
you,  she  has  business  with  my  old  fox  of  a  captain." 

"  But,  my  dear  Presidente "  (this  was  a  name  some- 
times given  to  La  Fillon,  in  allusion  to  the  presidente  of 
the  same  name),  "  do  you  think,  by  chance,  your  captain 
may  be  my  captain  1  " 

"  What  is  your  captain's  name  1 " 

"  Captain  Eoquefinette." 

"It  is  he  himself." 

"He  is  here  1" 

"  In  person." 

"  Well,  he  is  the  person  I  want  to  see ;  and  I  asked  for 
La  Normande  only  to  get  his  address." 

"  Then  it  is  all  right,"  said  the  presidente. 

"Have  the  kindness  to  send  for  him." 

"  Oh,  he  would  not  come  down  for  the  regent  himself. 
If  you  want  to  see  him,  you  must  go  up." 


A  PACHA  OF  OUR  ACQUAINTANCE.  77 

"To  what  room1? " 

"  To  room  No.  2,  where  you  supped  the  other  evening 
with  the  Baron  de  Valef.  Oh,  when  he  has  money, 
nothing  is  too  good  for  him.  Although  he  is  but  a 
captain,  he  has  the  heart  of  a  king." 

"  Better  and  better  ! "  said  D'Harmental,  mounting  the 
staircase,  without  suffering  his  mind  to  be  diverted  from 
his  enterprise  by  the  recollection  of  the  misadventure 
which  had  happened  to  him  in  that  room ;  " '  the  heart 
of  a  king,'  my  dear  Presidente, — that  is  exactly  what 
I  want." 

If  D'Harmental  had  not  known  the  room  in  question, 
the  voice  of  the  captain  would  soon  have  served  him  for 
a  guide. 

"  Now,  my  little  loves,"  shouted  the  captain,  "  the  third 
and  last  verse,  and  together  in  the  chorus  !  "  Then  he 
began  singing  in  a  magnificent  bass  voice,  and  four  or 
five   female  voices  took  up  the  chorus. 

"  That  is  better,"  said  the  captain ;  "  now  let  us  have 
the  '  Battle  of  Malplaquet.'  " 

" No,  no,"  said  a  voice ;  "I  have  had  enough  of  your 
battle." 

"  What !  enough  of  it,  —  a  battle  in  which  I  took  part  I 
morbleu!" 

"  That  is  nothing  to  me.  I  like  a  romance  better  than 
all  your  wicked  battle-songs,  full  of  oaths."  And  she 
began  to  sing,  "  Linval  loved  Arsene  —  " 

"  Silence  !  "  said  the  captain.  "  Am  I  not  master  here  1 
As  long  as  I  have  any  money,  I  will  be  served  as  I  like. 
When  I  have  no  more,  that  will  be  another  thing ;  then 
you  may  sing  what  you  like,  and  I  shall  have  nothing  to 
say  to  it." 

It  appeared  that  the  captain's  companions  thought  it 
beneath  the  dignity  of  their  sex  to  subscribe  to  such  a 


78  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

pretension,  for  there  was  such  a  noise  that  D'Harmental 
thought  it  best  to  announce  himself;  he  therefore  knocked 
on  the  door. 

"  Pull  the  bobbin,  and  the  latch  will  go  up,"  said  the 
captain. 

D'Harmental  followed  the  instruction  which  was  given 
him  in  the  words  of  Little  Red  Riding-hood,  and  having 
entered,  saw  the  captain  lying  on  a  couch  before  the 
remains  of  an  ample  dinner,  leaning  on  a  cushion,  a 
woman's  shawl  over  his  shoulders,  a  great  pipe  in  his 
mouth,  and  a  cloth  rolled  round  his  head  like  a  turban. 
Three  or  four  girls  were  standing  round  him.  On  a  chair 
near  him  was  placed  his  coat,  on  which  was  to  be  seen  a 
new  shoulder-knot,  his  hat  with  a  new  lace,  and  the 
famous  sword  which  had  suggested  to  Ravanne  the  face- 
tious comparison  to  his  mother's  spit. 

"  What !  is  it  you,  Chevalier  % "  cried  the  captain. 
"  You  find  me  like  Monsieur  de  Bonneval,  —  in  my  se- 
raglio, and  surrounded  by  my  slaves.  You  do  not  know 
Monsieur  de  Bonneval,  ladies  1  He  was  a  pacha  with  three 
tails,  who,  like  me,  could  not  bear  romances,  but  who 
understood  how  to  live.  Heaven  preserve  me  from  such 
a  fate  as  his  ! " 

"  Yes,  it  is  I,  Captain,"  said  D'Harmental,  unable  to 
keep  from  laughing  at  the  grotesque  group  which  pre- 
sented itself.  "  I  see  you  did  not  give  me  a  false  address, 
and  I  congratulate  you  on  your  veracity." 

"Welcome,  Chevalier,"  said  the  captain.  "Ladies,  I 
beg  you  to  serve  Monsieur  exactly  as  you  serve  me,  in  all 
respects,  and  to  sing  him  whatever  songs  he  likes.  Sit 
down,  Chevalier,  and  eat  and  drink  as  if  you  were  at 
home,  particularly  as  it  is  your  horse  we  are  eating  and 
drinking.  He  is  already  more  than  half  gone,  poor 
animal,  but  the  remains  are  good,"     .-" 


A  PACHA  OF  OUR  ACQUAINTANCE.  79 

"  ThaDk  you,  Captain,  I  have  just  dined  ;  and  I  have 
only  one  word  to  say  to  you,  if  you  will  permit  it." 

"  No,  pardieu !  I  do  not  permit  it,"  said  the  captain, 
"unless  it  is  about  another  engagement, —  that  would 
come  before  everything.  La  Normande,  give  me  my 
sword." 

"No,  Captain;  it  is  on  business,"  interrupted  the 
chevalier. 

"  Oh,  if  it  is  on  business,  I  am  your  humble  servant ; 
but  I  am  a  greater  tyrant  than  the  tyrants  of  Thebes  or 
Corinth, —  Archias,  Pelopidas,  Leonidas,  or  any  other  fool 
with  a  name  ending  in  '  as/  who  put  off  business  till  to- 
morrow. I  have  enough  money  to  last  till  to-morrow  even- 
ing ;  then  after  to-morrow,  business." 

"But  at  least  after  to-morrow,  Captain,  I  may  count 
upon  you?" 

"  For  life  or  death,  Chevalier." 

"  I  believe  that  the  postponement  is  prudent." 

"  Prudentissime/"  said  the  captain.  "  Athenai's,  light 
my  pipe.  La  Normande,  pour  me  out  something  to 
drink." 

"  The  day  after  to-morrow,  then,  Captain  ? " 

"  Yes  ;  where  shall  I  find  you  1 " 

"  Listen,"  replied  D'Harmental,  speaking  so  as  to  be 
heard  by  no  one  but  him.  "Walk,  from  ten  to  eleven 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  in  the  Eue  du  Temps-Perdu. 
Look  up;  you  will  be  called  from  somewhere,  and  you 
must  mount  till  you  meet  some  one  you  know.  A  good 
breakfast  will  await  you." 

"  All  right,  Chevalier,"  replied  th6  captain ;  "  from  ten 
to  eleven  in  the  morning.  Excuse  me  if  I  do  not  con- 
duct you  to  the  door,  but  you  know  it  is  not  the  custom 
with  Turks." 

The  chevalier  made  a  sign  with  his  hand  that  he  dis- 


80  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

pensed  with  this  formality,  and  having  closed  the  door 
behind  him,  descended  the  staircase.  He  was  only  on  the 
fourth  step  when  he  heard  the  captain  begin  the  famous 
song  of  the  dragoons  of  Malplaquet,  which  has  perhaps 
caused  as  much  blood  to  be  shed  in  duels  as  had  been 
poured  out  in  the  battle. 


THE  GARRET.  81 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE    GARRET. 

The  next  day  the  Abbe  Brigaud  came  to  the  chevalier's 
house  at  the  same  hour  as  before ;  he  was  a  very  punctual 
man.  He  brought  with  him  three  things  particularly  use- 
ful to  the  chevalier,  —  clothes,  a  passport,  and  the  report  of 
the  Prince  de  Cellamare's  police  respecting  what  the  regent 
was  intending  to  do  on  the  present  day,  March  24,  1718. 
The  clothes  were  simple,  as  became  the  cadet  of  a  bour- 
geois family  come  to  seek  his  fortune  in  Paris.  The 
chevalier  tried  them  on,  and  thanks  to  his  own  good 
looks,  found  that  plain  as  they  were,  they  became  him 
admirably.  The  abb6  shook  his  head.  He  would  have 
preferred  that  the  chevalier  should  not  have  looked  quite 
so  well ;  but  this  was  an  irreparable  misfortune,  to  which 
he  must  be  resigned. 

The  passport  was  in  the  name  of  Senor  Diego,  steward 
of  the  noble  house  of  Oropesa,  who  had  a  commission  to 
bring  back  to  Spain  a  sort  of  maniac,  a  bastard  of  the 
said  house,  whose  mania  was  to  believe  himself  regent  of 
France.  This  was  a  precaution  taken  to  meet  anything 
that  the  Due  d'Orleans  might  call  out  from  the  bottom  of 
the  carriage;  and  as  the  passport  was  according  to  rule, 
signed  by  the  Prince  de  Cellamare,  and  "  vised  "  by  Mon- 
sieur Voyer  d'Argenson,  there  was  no  reason  why  the 
regent,  once  in  the  carriage,  should  not  arrive  safely  at 
Pampeluna,  when  all  would  be  done.  The  signature  of 
Monsieur  Voyer  d'Argenson  was  imitated  with  a  fidelity 

6 


82  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

which  did  honor  to  the  caligraphers    of  the   Prince   de 
Cellamare. 

As  to  the  report,  it  was  a  masterpiece  of  clearness ;  and 
we  reproduce  it  word  for  word,  to  give  an  idea  of  the  re- 
gent's  life,  and  of  the  manner  in  which  the  Spanish  am- 
bassador's police  was  conducted.  It  was  dated  two 
o'clock  in  the  morning. 

"  To-day  the  regent  will  rise  late.  There  has  been  a  supper 
In  his  private  rooms;  Madame  d'Averne  was  there  for  the  first 
time  instead  of  Madame  de  Parabere.  The  other  women  were 
the  Duchesse  de  Falaris,  and  Saleri,  maid  of  honor  to  Madame. 
The  men  were  the  Marquis  de  Broglie,  the  Comte  de  Noce, 
the  Marquis  de  Canillac,  the  Due  de  Brancas,  and  the  Cheva- 
lier de  Simiane.  As  to  the  Marquis  de  Lafare  and  Monsieur 
de  Fargy,  they  were  detained  in  bed  by  an  illness  of  which  the 
cause  is  unknown.  At  noon  there  will  be  a  council.  The  re- 
gent will  communicate  to  the  Due  du  Maine,  the  Prince  de 
Conti,  the  Due  de  Saint-Simon,  the  Due  de  Guiche,  etc.,  the 
project  of  the  treaty  of  the  quadruple  alliance,  which  the 
Abbe  Dubois  has  sent  him,  announcing  his  return  in  three  or 
four  days. 

"  The  rest  of  the  day  is  given  entirely  to  paternal  occupations. 
The  day  before  yesterday  the  regent  married  his  daughter  by 
La  Desmarets,  who  was  brought  up  by  the  nuns  of  St.  Denis. 
She  dines  with  her  husband  at  the  Palais  Royal,  and  after 
dinner  the  regent  takes  her  to  the  opera,  to  the  box  of  Madame 
Charlotte  de  Baviere.  La  Desmarets,  who  has  not  seen  her 
daughter  for  six  years,  is  told  that  if  she  wishes  to  see  her,  she 
can  come  to  the  theatre.  The  regent,  in  spite  of  his  caprice  for 
Madame  d'Averne,  still  pays  court  to  the  Marquise  de  Sabran, 
who  piques  herself  on  her  fidelity  —  not  to  her  husband,  but 
to  the  Due  de  Richelieu.  To  advance  his  affairs,  the  regent 
has  appointed  Monsieur  de  Sabran  his  maitre  d'hotel." 

"  I  hope  that  is  business  well  done,"  said  the  Abbe  Bri- 

gaud,  when  the  chevalier  had  finished  reading  the  report. 

"  Yes,  my  dear  Abbey  replied  D'Harmental ;    "  but  if 


THE  GAKRET.  83 

the  regent  does  not  give  us  greater  opportunities  for 
executing  our  enterprise,  it  will  not  be  easy  for  me  to 
take  him  to  Spain." 

"  Patience,  patience  ! "  said  Brigaud  ;  "  there  is  time  for 
everything.  If  there  had  been  an  opportunity  to-day,  you 
probably  would  not  have  been  able  to  profit  by  it." 

"  No  ;  you  are  right." 

"  Then  you  see  that  what  God  does  is  well  done.  He 
has  left  us  this  day;  let  us  profit  by  it  to  move." 

The  removal  was  neither  a  long  nor  a  difficult  busi- 
ness. D'Harmental  took  his  treasure,  some  books,  and 
the  packet  which  contained  his  wardrobe,  and  drove  to  the 
abbe's  house.  Then  he  sent  away  his  carriage,  saying  he 
should  go  into  the  country  in  the  evening,  and  should  be 
away  ten  or  twelve  days.  Then  having  changed  his 
elegant  clothes  for  those  more  in  keeping  with  the  part 
he  was  about  to  play,  he  went,  conducted  by  the  Abbe 
Brigaud,  to  take  possession  of  his  new  lodging.  It  was  a 
room,  or  rather  an  attic,  with  a  closet,  on  the  fourth  story 
at  No.  5  Rue  du  Temps-Perdu.  The  proprietor  of  the 
house  was  an  acquaintance  of  the  Abbe  Brigaud  ;  there- 
fore, thanks  to  his  recommendation,  special  preparation 
had  been  made  for  the  accommodation  of  the  young  pro- 
vincial. He  found  beautifully  white  curtains,  very  fine 
linen,  and  a  well-furnished  library;  so  he  saw  at  once 
that  if  not  so  well  off  as  in  his  own  apartments,  he 
should  be  tolerably  comfortable. 

Madame  Denis  (this  was  the  name  of  the  abbe's  friend) 
was  waiting  to  do  the  honors  of  the  room  to  her  future 
lodger.  She  pointed  out  to  him  all  its  advantages,  and 
assured  him  that  but  for  the  hard  times  he  would  have 
had  to  pay  twice  the  rent.  She  said  that  her  house  was 
one  of  the  most  favorably  known  in  that  quarter,  and 
promised  that  there  would  be  no  noise  to  disturb  him  at 


84  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

his  work,  since,  the  street  being  too  narrow  for  two  car- 
riages to  pass  each  other,  coachmen  very  rarely  drove 
into  it.  To  all  this  the  chevalier  replied  in  a  manner  so 
modest  that  on  going  down  to  the  first  floor,  where  she 
lived,  Madame  Denis  particularly  recommended  him  to 
the  care  of  the  porter  and  his  wife.  This  young  man, 
though  in  appearance  he  could  certainly  compete  with 
the  proudest  seigneurs  of  the  court,  seemed  to  her  far 
from  having  the  bold  and  free  manners  which  the  young 
men  of  the  time  affected.  'T  is  true  that  the  Abbe  Bri- 
gaud,  in  the  name  of  his  pupil's  family,  had  paid  her  a 
quarter  in  advance. 

A  minute  after,  the  abbe  went  down  to  Madame  Denis's 
room  and  completed  her  good  opinion  of  his  young  pro- 
tege by  telling  her  that  he  received  absolutely  nobody  but 
himself  and  an  old  friend  of  his  father.  The  latter,  in 
spite  of  brusque  manners,  which  he  had  acquired  in  the 
field,  was  a  highly  respectable  gentleman.  D'Harmental 
had  recommended  this  precaution  for  fear  the  appear- 
ance of  the  captain  might  frighten  Madame  Denis  if  she 
happened  to  meet  him. 

When  he  was  alone,  the  chevalier,  who  had  already 
taken  the  inventory  of  his  own  room,  resolved  to  take 
that  of  the  neighborhood.  He  soon  convinced  himself 
of  the  truth  of  what  Madame  Denis  had  said  about  the 
quietness  of  the  street,  for  it  was  not  more  than  ten  or 
twelve  feet  wide ;  but  this  was  to  him  an  advantage, —  for 
he  thought  that  if  pursued  he  might,  by  means  of  a  plank 
passed  from  one  window  to  that  opposite,  escape  to  the 
other  side  of  the  street.  It  was  therefore  important  to 
establish  amicable  relations  with  his  opposite  neighbors. 

Unfortunately,  they  did  not  seem  much  disposed  to 
sociability;  for  not  only  was  the  window  hermetically 
sealed,  as  the  time  of  year  demanded,  but  the  curtains 


THE  GARRET.  85 

behind  it  were  so  closely  drawn  that  there  was  not  the 
smallest  opening  through  which  he  could  look. 

More  favored  than  that  of  Madame  Denis,  the  house 
opposite  had  a  fifth  story,  or  rather  a  terrace.  An  attic 
room,  just  above  the  window  so  carefully  closed,  opened 
on  this  terrace.  It  was  probably  the  residence  of  some 
distinguished  horticulturist,  —  for  he  had  succeeded,  by 
means  of  patience  and  labor,  in  transforming  this  terrace 
into  a  garden,  containing,  in  some  twelve  feet  square,  a 
fountain,  a  grotto,  and  an  arbor.  The  fountain,  indeed, 
was  supplied  with  water  from  an  upper  reservoir,  which 
was  fed  in  winter  by  the  rain,  and  in  summer  by  what  he 
himself  poured  into  it ;  the  grotto,  ornamented  with  shell- 
work,  and  surrounded  by  a  wooden  fortress,  appeared  fit 
only  to  shelter  an  individual  of  the  canine  race ;  and  the 
arbor,  entirely  stripped  of  its  leaves,  appeared  for  the  time 
fit  only  for  an  immense  poultry-cage. 

D'Harmenta]  admired  the  active  industry  of  the  citizen 
of  Paris  who  had  made  for  himself  a  rural  resort  at  the 
edge  of  his  window.  He  murmured  the  famous  line  of 
Virgil,  "  0  fortunatos  nimium  ! "  and  then,  since  the  air 
was  chilly,  and  there  was  nothing  else  to  be  seen  but  a 
monotonous  series  of  roofs  and  chimneys,  he  closed  his 
window,  sat  down  in  an  armchair,  put  his  feet  on  the 
hobs,  took  up  a  volume  by  the  Abbe  de  Chaulieu,  and 
began  to  read  the  verses  addressed  to  Mademoiselle  de 
Launay,  which  the  Marquis  de  Pompadour  had  mentioned 
to  him,  and  which  had  a  new  interest  for  him  now  that 
he  was  acquainted  with  the  heroine. 

The  result  of  this  reading  was  that  the  chevalier,  while 
smiling  at  the  octogenarian  love  of  the  good  abbe,  dis- 
covered that  he,  less  fortunate,  was  in  love  with  no  one. 
For  a  short  time  he  had  thought  he  loved  Madame 
d'Averne,  and  was  loved  by  her;  but  on  her  part  this 


86  LE  CHEVALIER   D'HARMENTAL. 

grand  passion  had  not  been  able  to  withstand  the  offer  of 
some  jewels  from  the  regent,  and  the  vanity  of  pleasing 
him. 

Before  this  infidelity  had  occurred,  the  chevalier  thought 
that  it  would  have  driven  him  to  despair.  It  had  oc- 
curred, and  he  had  fought,  because  at  that  time  men 
fought  about  everything  that  happened,  —  probably  be- 
cause duelling  was  so  strictly  forbidden.  Then  he  began 
to  perceive  how  small  a  place  this  love  had  held  in  his 
heart.  It  is  true  that  the  events  of  the  last  three  or  four 
days  had  diverted  his  mind  to  other  matters;  but  the 
chevalier  did  not  conceal  from  himself  that  these  events 
would  not  have  occurred  had  he  been  really  in  love.  A 
great  despair  would  not  have  allowed  him  to  seek  amuse- 
ment at  the  bal-masque  ;  and  if  he  had  not  gone  thither, 
not  one  of  the  events  which  had  occurred  in  so  rapid  suc- 
cession and  in  a  manner  so  unexpected  would  have  had  a 
point  of  departure. 

The  chevalier's  conclusion  from  this  course  of  reflection 
was  that  he  was  incapable  of  a  grand  passion,  and  that  he 
was  to  find  his  associates  among  those  charming  sinners 
who  at  that  epoch  were  so  much  in  vogue.  He  got  up, 
and  began  to  walk  up  and  down  his  room.  While  thus 
employed,  he  perceived  that  the  window  opposite  was  now 
wide  open ;  he  stopped  mechanically,  drew  back  his  cur- 
tain, and  began  to  examine  the  room  thus  exposed. 

It  was  to  all  appearance  occupied  by  a  woman.  Near 
the  window,  on  which  a  charming  little  Italian  greyhound 
rested  her  delicate  paws,  was  an  embroidery  frame.  Oppo- 
site the  window  was  an  open  harpsichord  between  two 
music-stands.  Some  crayon  drawings,  framed  in  black 
wood  with  a  gold  bead,  were  hung  on  the  walls,  which 
were  covered  with  a  Persian  paper.  Curtains  of  Indian 
chintz,  of  the  same  pattern  as  the  paper,  hung  behind  the 


THE  GARRET.  87 

muslin  curtains.  Through  a  second  window,  half-open, 
he  could  see  the  curtains  of  a  recess  which  probably  con- 
tained a  bed.  The  rest  of  the  furniture  was  perfectly 
simple,  but  in  admirable  harmony,  which  was  due  evi- 
dently, not  to  the  fortune,  but  to  the  taste  of  the  modest 
inhabitant. 

An  old  woman  was  sweeping,  dusting,  and  arranging 
the  room,  profiting  by  the  tenant's  absence  to  do  this 
household  work ;  for  there  was  no  one  else  to  be  seen  in 
the  room,  and  yet  it  was  clear  it  was  not  she  who  in- 
habited it.  All  at  once  the  face  of  the  greyhound  — 
whose  great  eyes  had  been  wandering  till  then,  with  the 
aristocratic  indifference  characteristic  of  that  animal  — 
became  animated.  It  leaned  its  head  over  into  the  street, 
then  with  a  miraculous  lightness  and  address,  jumped  on 
the  window-sill,  and  sat  there  pricking  up  its  long  ears 
and  raising  one  of  its  paws.  The  chevalier  understood  by 
these  signs  that  the  tenant  of  the  little  room  was  approach- 
ing. He  immediately  opened  his  window  ;  unfortunately 
it  was  already  too  late,  —  the  street  was  solitary. 

At  the  same  moment  the  greyhound  leaped  from  the 
window  into  the  room,  and  ran  to  the  door.  D'Har- 
mental  concluded  that  the  young  lady  was  mounting  the 
stairs.  In  order  to  see  her  at  his  ease,  he  threw  himself 
back  and  hid  behind  the  curtain;  but  the  old  woman 
came  to  the  window  and  closed  it.  The  chevalier  did  not 
expect  this  denouement,  and  was  seriously  disappointed. 
There  was  nothing  for  him  to  do  but  to  close  his  window 
also,  and  to  go  back  and  put  his  feet  on  the  hobs. 

The  affair  was  not  very  absorbing,  and  the  chevalier  — 
so  fond  of  companionship  and  so  accustomed  to  those 
social  trifles  which  enter  into  the  life  of  a  man  of  the 
world  —  began  then  to  perceive  how  lonely  he  should  be 
during  the  short  time  he  was  to  remain  in  that  retreat. 


88  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

He  remembered  that  formerly  he  also  used  to  play  and 
draw ;  and  he  thought  that  if  he  had  the  smallest  spinet 
and  some  crayons,  he  could  pass  the  time  patiently.  He 
rang  for  the  porter^  and  asked  where  he  could  procure 
these  things.  The  porter  replied  that  every  increase  of 
furniture  must  be  at  his  own  expense ;  that  if  he  wished 
for  a  harpsichord  he  must  hire  it ;  and  that  as  to  crayons, 
he  could  get  them  at  the  shop  at  the  corner  of  the  Rue 
de  Clery. 

D'Harmental  gave  a  double  louis  to  the  porter,  telling 
him  that  in  half  an  hour  he  wished  to  have  a  spinet  and 
everything  necessary  for  drawing.  The  double  louis  was 
an  argument  which  he  had  found  effective  more  than  once. 
Reproaching  himself,  however,  with  having  used  it  this 
time  with  a  carelessness  which  gave  the  lie  to  his  apparent 
position,  he  recalled  the  porter,  and  told  him  that  he  ex- 
pected for  his  double  louis  to  have  not  only  paper  and 
crayons,  but  a  month's  hire  of  his  instrument. 

The  porter  replied  that  since  he  should  make  the  bar- 
gain as  if  it  were  for  himself,  the  thing  was  possible ;  but 
that  D'Harmental  must  certainly  pay  for  the  transportation. 
He  consented,  and  half  an  hour  afterward  was  in  posses- 
sion of  the  desired  objects.  Such  a  wonderful  place 
is  Paris  for  every  enchanter  with  a  golden  wand.  The 
porter,  when  he  went  down,  told  his  wife  that  if  the  new 
lodger  was  not  more  careful  of  his  money,  he  would  ruin 
his  family ;  and  he  showed  her  two  crowns  of  six  francs, 
which  he  had  saved  out  of  the  double  louis.  The  woman 
took  the  two  crowns  from  the  hands  of  her  husband,  call- 
ing him  a  drunkard,  and  put  them  into  a  little  bag,  hidden 
under  a  heap  of  old  clothes,  deploring  the  misfortune  of 
fathers  and  mothers  who  bleed  themselves  to  death  for 
such  good-for-nothings.  This  was  the  funeral  oration  of 
the  chevalier's  double  louis. 


A  BOURGEOIS  OF  THE  RUE  DU  TEMPS -PERDU.   89 


CHAPTER    X. 

A   BOURGEOIS   OF   THE    RUE   DU    TEMPS-PERDU. 

During  this  time  D'Harmental  was  seated  before  the 
spinet,  playing  his  best.  The  shopkeeper  was  a  man 
blessed  with  a  fair  conscience,  and  had  sent  him  an  in- 
strument nearly  in  tune ;  so  that  the  chevalier  began  to 
perceive  that  he  was  doing  wonders,  and  almost  believed 
he  was  born  with  a  genius  for  music  which  had  awaited 
for  its  development  the  circumstances  in  which  he  was 
now  placed.  Doubtless  there  was  some  truth  in  this,  for 
in  the  middle  of  a  brilliant  shake  he  saw,  on  the  other 
side  of  the  street,  five  little  fingers  delicately  raising  the 
curtain  to  see  whence  came  this  strange  music.  Unfor- 
tunately, at  the  sight  of  those  little  fingers  the  chevalier 
forgot  his  playing,  and  turned  round  quickly  on  the  stool, 
hoping  to  see  a  face  behind  the  hand. 

This  ill-judged  manoeuvre  destroyed  his  chances.  The 
mistress  of  the  little  room,  surprised  in  the  act  of  curi- 
osity, let  the  curtain  fall.  D'Harmental,  wounded  by  this 
prudery,  closed  his  window,  and  during  the  rest  of  the 
day  paid  no  attention  to  his  neighbor.  The  evening  he 
spent*  in  reading,  drawing,  and  playing.  He  was  sur- 
prised to  find  that  there  were  so  many  minutes  in  an 
hour  and  so  many  hours  in  a  day.  At  ten  o'clock  in  the 
evening  he  rang  for  the  porter,  to  give  orders  for  the  next 
day.  The  porter  did  not  respond ;  he  had  been  in  bed  a 
2ong  time.  Madame  Denis  had  said  truly  that  hers  was 
a  quiet  house.     D'Harmental  then  learned  that  there  were 


90  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

those  who  went  to  bed  about  the  time  he  ordered  his  car- 
riage to  pay  visits. 

This  set  him  thinking  of  the  strange  manners  of  that 
unfortunate  class  of  society  who  do  not  know  the  opera, 
who  do  not  go  to  supper-parties,  and  who  sleep  all  night 
and  are  awake  all  day.  He  thought  one  must  come  to 
the  Rue  du  Temps-Perdu  to  see  such  things,  and  prom- 
ised himself  to  amuse  his  friends  with  an  account  of  this 
singularity. 

Meanwhile  D'Harmental  noticed  one  thing  that  pleased 
him ;  and  this  was  that  his  neighbor  also  was  awake. 
This  showed  in  her  a  mind  superior  to  that  of  the  vulgar 
inhabitants  of  the  Rue  du  Temps-Perdu.  He  had  a 
notion  that  only  those  stay  up  late  who  are  not  sleepy, 
or  who  seek  amusement.  He  forgot  all  those  who  do  so 
because  they  are  obliged  to.  At  midnight  the  light  in 
the  opposite  windows  was  extinguished ;  D'Harmental 
also  went  to  his  bed. 

The  next  day  the  Abbe  Brigaud  appeared  at  eight 
o'clock.  He  brought  D'Harmental  the  second  report  of 
the  Prince  de  Cellamare's  secret  police.  It  was  in  these 
terms  :  — 

Three  o'clock,  a.  m. 

In  consequence  of  the  regular  life  which  he  led  yesterday, 
the  regent  has  given  orders  to  be  called  at  nine. 

He  will  receive  certain  persons  whom  he  has  appointed  to 
meet  at  that  time 

From  ten  to  twel  ve  there  will  be  a  public  audience. 

From  twelve  to  one  the  regent  will  be  engaged  with  La 
Vrilliere  and  Leblanc. 

From  one  to  two  he  will  open  letters  with  Torcy. 

At  half-past  two  there  will  be  a  council,  and  he  will  pay 
the  king  a  visit. 

At  three  o'clock  he  will  go  to,  the  tennis-court  in  the  Rue 
du  Seine,  to  sustain,  with  Brancas  and  Canillac,  a  challenge 


A  BOURGEOIS  OF  THE  RUE  DU  TEMPS-PERDU.      91 

against  the  Due  du  Richelieu,  the  Marquis  de  Broglie,  and  the 
Corate  de  Gace. 

At  six  he  will  go  to  supper  at  the  Luxembourg  with  the 
Duchesse  de  Berri,  and  will  pass  the  evening  there. 

From  there  he  will  come  back,  without  guards,  to  the 
Palais  Royal,  unless  the  Duchesse  de  Berri  gives  him  an 
escort  from  hers. 

"  Without  guards,  my  dear  Abbe !  what  do  you  think 
of  that1?"  said  D'Harmental,  beginning  to  dress.  "Does 
it  not  make  your  mouth  water  1  n 

"  Without  guards,  yes,"  replied  the  abbe  ;  "  but  with 
footmen,  outriders,  a  coachman,  —  persons  who  do  not 
fight  much,  it  is  true,  but  who  cry  very  loud.  Oh, 
patience,  patience,  my  young  friend  !  You  are  in  a  great 
hurry  to  be  a  grandee  of  Spain." 

"  No,  my  dear  Abbe  ;  but  I  am  in  a  hurry  to  give  up 
living  in  an  attic  where  I  lack  everything,  and  where  I 
am  obliged  to  dress  myself  alone,  as  you  see.  Do  you 
think  it  is  nothing  to  go  to  bed  at  ten  o'clock,  and  dress 
in  the  morning  without  a  valet  % " 

"  Yes,  but  you  have  music,"  replied  the  abbe. 

"  Ah,  indeed  !  "  replied  D'Harmental.  "  Abbe,  open 
my  window,  I  beg,  that  they  may  see  I  receive  good  com- 
pany.    That  will  do  me  honor  with  my  neighbors." 

"  Ho  !  ho ! "  said  the  abbe,  doing  what  D'Harmental 
asked ;  "  that  is  not  bad  at  all." 

"How,  not  bad1?"  replied  D'Harmental;  "it  is  very 
good,  on  the  contrary.  It  is  from  '  Armida,'  pardieu ! 
The  devil  take  me  if  I  expected  to  find  that  in  the 
fourth  story  of  a  house  in  the  Rue  du  Temps-Perdu." 

"  Chevalier,  I  predict,"  said  the  abbe,  "  that  if  the 
singer  be  young  and  pretty,  in  a  week  there  will  be  as 
much  trouble  to  get  you  away  as  there  is  now  to  keep 
you  here." 


92  LE  CHEVALIER   D'HARMENTAL. 

"My  dear  Abbe,"  said  D'Harmental,  "if  your  police 
were  as  good  as  those  of  the  Prince  de  Cellamare,  you 
would  know  that  I  am  cured  of  love  for  a  long  time ;  and 
here  is  the  proof.  Do  not  think  I  pass  my  days  in  sigh- 
ing. I  beg  when  you  go  down  you  will  send  me  some- 
thing like  a  pdte  and  a  dozen  bottles  of  good  wine.  1 
trust  to  you.  I  know  you  are  a  connoisseur;  besides, 
sent  by  you,  it  will  seem  like  a  guardian's  attention. 
Bought  by  me,  it  would  seem  like  a  pupil's  debauch  ; 
and  I  have  my  provincial  reputation  to  keep  up  with 
Madame  Denis." 

{t  That  is  true.  I  do  not  ask  you  what  it  is  for;  but  I 
will  send  it  to  you." 

"  And  you  are  right,  my  dear  Abbe.  It  is  for  the  good 
of  the  cause." 

"  In  an  hour  the  pdte  and  the  wine  will  be  here." 

"  When  shall  I  see  you  again  1 " 

"  To-morrow,  probably." 

"Adieu,  then,  till  to-morrow." 

"  You  send  me  away  1 " 

"I  am  expecting  somebody." 

"  Still  for  the  good  cause  1 " 

"  Yes,  I  assure  you.     Go,  and  may  God  preserve  you  !  *" 

"  Stay,  and  may  the  devil  not  get  hold  of  you  !  Re- 
member that  it  was  a  woman  who  got  us  turned  out  of 
our  terrestrial  paradise.     Put  no  trust  in  women." 

"Amen,"  said  the  chevalier,  making  a  parting  sign 
with  his  hand  to  the  Abbe  Brigaud. 

Indeed,  as  the  abbe  had  observed,  D'Harmental  was  in 
a  hurry  to  see  him  go.  His  great  love  for  music,  which 
he  had  discovered  only  the  day  before,  had  progressed  so 
rapidly  that  he  did  not  wish  his  attention  called  away 
from  what  he  had  just  heard.  The  little  which  that  hor- 
rible window,  still  closed,  allowed  him  to  hear,  and  which 


A  BOURGEOIS  OF  THE  RUE  DU  TEMPS-PERDU.      93 

was  more  of  the  instrument  than  of  the  voice,  showed 
that  his  neighbor  was  an  excellent  musician.  The  play- 
ing was  skilful ;  the  voice  was  sweet  and  sustained,  and 
had  in  its  high  notes  and  deep  vibrations  something  which 
awoke  an  answer  in  the  heart  of  the  listener.  At  last, 
after  a  very  difficult  and  perfectly  executed  passage,  D'Har- 
mental  could  not  help  clapping  his  hands  and  crying, 
"  Bravo  ! "  As  bad  luck  would  have  it,  this  triumph,  to 
which  she  had  not  been  accustomed,  instead  of  encour- 
aging the  musician,  frightened  her  so  much  that  voice 
and  harpsichord  stopped  at  the  same  instant,  and  silence 
immediately  succeeded  to  the  melody  for  which  the  cheva- 
lier had  so  imprudently  manifested  his  enthusiasm. 

In  exchange,  he  saw  the  door  of  the  room  above  (which 
we  have  said  led  to  the  terrace)  open,  and  a  hand  was 
stretched  out,  evidently  to  ascertain  what  kind  of  weather 
it  was.  The  answer  of  the  weather  seemed  reassuring, 
for  the  hand  was  almost  directly  followed  by  a  head  cov- 
ered by  a  little  chintz  cap,  tied  on  the  forehead  by  a  violet 
ribbon ;  and  the  head  was  only  a  few  instants  in  advance 
of  a  neck  and  shoulders  clothed  in  a  kind  of  dressing- 
gown  of  the  same  stuff  as  the  cap.  This  was  not  quite 
enough  to  enable  the  chevalier  to  decide  to  which  sex  the 
individual,  who  seemed  so  cautious  about  exposure  to  the 
morning  air,  belonged.  At  last,  a  sort  of  sunbeam  having 
slipped  out  between  two  clouds,  the  timid  occupant  of  the 
terrace  appeared  to  be  encouraged  to  come  out  altogether. 
D'Harmental  then  saw,  by  his  black  velvet  knee-breeches, 
and  by  his  colored  stockings,  that  the  personage  who  had 
just  entered  on  the  scene  was  of  the  masculine  gender. 

It  was  the  horticulturist  of  whom  we  spoke.  The  bad 
weather  of  the  preceding  days  had  without  doubt  de- 
prived him  of  his  morning  walk,  and  had  prevented  him 
from   giving  his  garden  his  ordinary  attention ;  for  he 


94  LE  CHEVALIER   D'HARMENTAL. 

began  to  walk  round  in  it  with  apparent  anxiety,  fearing 
that  some  accident  had  been  caused  by  the  wind  or  rain. 
But  after  a  careful  inspection  of  the  fountain,  the  grotto, 
and  the  arbor,  which  were  the  three  principal  ornaments  of 
the  garden,  the  excellent  face  of  the  horticulturist  was 
lighted  by  a  ray  of  joy,  as  the  terrace  had  been  lighted  by 
a  ray  of  the  sun.  He  perceived,  not  only  that  everything 
was  in  its  place,  but  that  the  reservoir  was  full  to  overflow- 
ing. He  thought  he  might  indulge  himself  in  the  pleasure 
of  making  his  fountain  play,  —  a  prodigality  which  ordi- 
narily, following  the  example  of  Louis  XIV.,  he  allowed 
himself  only  on  Sundays.  He  turned  the  cock,  and  the 
jet  rose  majestically  to  the  height  of  four  or  five  feet. 
The  good  man  was  so  delighted  that  he  began  to  sing 
the  refrain  of  an  old  pastoral  song  which  D'Harmental 
had  heard  when  he  was  a  baby ;  and  while  repeating,  - — 

"  Let  me  go, 
And  let  me  play 
Beneath  the  hazel-tree," 

he  ran  to  the  window  and  called  aloud,  "  Bathilde  ! 
Bathilde  ! " 

The  chevalier  understood  that  there  was  a  communica- 
tion between  the  rooms  on  the  fourth  and  fifth  stories, 
and  some  relation  between  the  horticulturist  and  the 
musician,  and  thought  that  perhaps  if  he  remained  at  the 
window  she  would  not  come  out  on  the  terrace  ;  therefore 
he  closed  his  window  with  a  careless  air,  taking  care  to 
keep  a  little  opening  behind  the  curtain,  through  which 
he  could  see  without  being  seen.  What  he  had  foreseen 
happened.  Very  soon  the  head  of  a  charming  young  girl 
appeared  at  the  window ;  but  as  without  doubt  the 
ground,  on  which  he  who  had  summoned  her  had  ven- 
tured with  so  much  courage,  was  too  damp,  she  would 
not  go  any  farther.     The  little  dog,  not  less  timid  than 


A  BOUKGEOIS  OF  THE  RUE  DU  TEMPS-PERDU.      95 

its  mistress,  remained  near  her,  resting  its  white  paws  on 
the  window-sill,  and  shaking  its  head  in  rejection  of  every 
invitation  to  go  farther  than  its  mistress  wished  to  go. 

A  dialogue  ensued  between  the  good  man  and  the  young 
girl ;  and  D'Harmental  was  able  to  examine  her  with  the 
less  distraction  since  his  closed  window  enabled  him  to 
see  her  without  hearing  her  voice.  She  appeared  to  have 
arrived  at  that  attractive  period  of  life  when  woman,  pass- 
ing from  childhood  to  youth,  is  in  the  full  bloom  of  sen- 
timent, grace,  and  beauty.  He  saw  that  she  was  not  less 
than  sixteen  nor  more  than  eighteen  years  of  age,  and 
that  there  existed  in  her  a  singular  mixture  of  two  races. 
She  had  the  fair  hair,  rich  complexion,  and  graceful  neck 
of  an  English  woman,  with  the  black  eyes,  coral  lips,  and 
pearly  teeth  of  a  Spaniard.  As  she  applied  no  coloring 
matter  to  her  face,  and  at  that  time  the  use  of  powder  on 
the  head  was  only  beginning  to  be  in  fashion,  —  its  use 
being'  as  yet  limited  to  the  aristocracy,  —  her  complexion 
retained  its  natural  hue,  and  nothing  tarnished  the  delicate 
tints  of  her  hair. 

The  chevalier  remained  as  in  an  ecstasy.  Indeed,  up 
to  this  time  he  had  seen  but  two  classes  of  women,  —  the 
fat  and  coarse  peasants  of  the  Nivernais,  with  their  great 
feet  and  hands,  their  short  petticoats,  and  their  hats 
shaped  like  a  hunting-horn ;  and  the  women  of  the 
Parisian  aristocracy,  beautiful  without  doubt,  but  with  a 
beauty  worn  by  watching  and  pleasure,  and  by  that  re- 
versing of  life  which  makes  them  what  flowers  would  be 
if  they  saw  the  sun  only  on  rare  occasions,  and  the  vivi- 
fying air  of  the  morning  and  the  evening  reached  them 
only  through  the  windows  of  a  hot-house.  He  did  not 
know  this  intermediate  type,  if  one  may  call  it  so,  between 
high  society  and  the  country  people,  which  had  all  the 
elegance  of  the  one,  and  all  the  fresh  health  of  the  other. 


96  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

Thus,  as  we  have  said,  he  remained  fixed  in  his  place ; 
and  long  after  the  young  girl  had  re-entered,  he  kept 
his  eyes  on  the  window  where  this  delightful  vision 
had  appeared. 

The  sound  of  his  door  opening  called  him  out  of  his 
ecstasy ;  it  was  the  pate  and  the  wine  from  Abbe  Brigaud 
making  their  solemn  entry  into  the  chevalier's  garret. 
The  sight  of  these  provisions  reminded  him  that  at  the 
present  moment  he  had  something  better  to  do  than  to 
abandon  himself  to  contemplation,  and  that  he  had  given 
Captain  Roquefinette  a  rendezvous  with  reference  to  an 
affair  of  the  highest  importance.  He  looked  at  his  watch 
and  saw  that  it  was  ten  o'clock.  This  was,  as  the  reader' 
will  remember,  the  appointed  hour.  He  sent  away  the 
man  who  had  brought  the  provisions,  and  said  he  would 
lay  the  cloth  himself;  then  opening  his  window  once 
more,  he  sat  down  to  watch  for  the  appearance  of  Cap- 
tain Roquefinette. 


THE  CONTRACT.  97 


CHAPTEE    XL 

THE    CONTRACT. 

Hardly  had  D'Harmental  taken  his  position  at  the 
window,  when  he  perceived  the  worthy  captain  coming 
round  the  corner  from  the  Rue  Gros-Chenet,  his  head 
thrown  hack,  his  hand  on  his  hip,  and  with  the  martial 
and  decided  air  of  a  man  who,  like  the  Greek  philosopher, 
carries  everything  with  him.  His  hat,  that  thermometer 
"by  which  his  friends  could  tell  the  secret  state  of  his 
finances,  and  which  on  his  fortunate  days  was  placed  as 
straight  on  his  head  as  a  pyramid  on  its  base,  had  re- 
sumed that  miraculous  inclination  which  had  so  interested 
the  Baron  de  Valef,  and  by  reason  of  which  one  of  the 
points  almost  touched  his  right  shoulder,  while  the  oppo- 
site point  might  forty  years  later  have  given  Franklin,  if 
Franklin  had  known  the  captain,  the  first  idea  of  the 
lightning-rod. 

Having  advanced  about  a  third  of  the  street's  length, 
the  captain  looked  up,  according  to  his  directions,  and  saw 
the  chevalier  just  above  him.  He  who  waited  and  he 
who  was  waited  for  exchanged  nods ;  and  the  captain,  hav- 
ing calculated  the  distance  at  a  glance,  and  recognized  the 
door  which  ought  to  correspond  with  the  window  above, 
stepped  over  the  threshold  of  Madame  Denis's  quiet 
house  with  as  much  familiarity  as  if  it  had  been  a  tavern. 
The  chevalier  shut  the  window,  and  drew  the  curtains 
with  the  greatest  care,  —  either  in  order  that  his  pretty 


98  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

neighbor  might  not  see  him  with  the  captain,  or  that  the 
captain  might  not  see  her. 

A  moment  later  D'Harmental  heard  the  sound  of  his 
visitor's  steps,  and  the  beating  of  his  sword  against  the 
balusters.  Having  arrived  at  the  third  story,  as  the  light 
which  came  from  below  was  not  reinforced  by  any  light 
from  above,  the  captain  found  himself  in  difficulty,  not 
knowing  whether  to  stop  where  he  was  or  to  mount 
higher.  Then  after  coughing  in  the  most  significant 
manner,  and  finding  that  this  call  remained  unnoticed, 
"  Morbleu  !  '  said  he.  "  Chevalier,  as  you  probably  did 
not  bring  me  here  to  break  my  neck,  open  your  door  or 
call  out,  so  that  I  may  be  guided  either  by  the  light  of 
heaven  or  by  the  sound  of  your  voice ;  otherwise  I  shall  be 
lost  neither  more  nor  less  than  was  Theseus  in  the  laby- 
rinth."   And  the  captain  began  to  sing  in  a  loud  voice  : 

"  Fair  Ariadne,  I  beg  of  you 
Help  me,  by  lending  me  your  clew. 
Tonton,  tonton,  tontaine,  tonton  ! " 

The  chevalier  ran  to  his  door  and  opened  it. 

"  My  friend,"  said  the  captain,  "  the  ladder  up  to  your 
pigeon-house  is  infernally  dark  ;  still,  here  I  am,  faithful 
to  the  agreement,  exact  to  the  time.  Ten  o'clock  was 
striking  as  I  came  over  the  Pont-Neuf." 

"  Yes,  you  are  a  man  of  your  word,  —  I  see  that,"  said 
the  chevalier,  offering  his  hand  to  the  captain  ;  "  but  come 
in  at  once,  —  it  is  important  that  my  neighbors  should  not 
notice  you." 

"  In  that  case  I  am  as  dumb  as  a  log,"  answered  the 
captain;  "besides,"  he  added,  pointing  to  the  pdle  and 
the  bottles  which  covered  the  table,  "  you  have  hit  upon 
the  true  way  of  shutting  my  mouth." 

The  chevalier  shut  the  door  behind  the  captain  and 
pushed  the  bolt. 


THE  CONTRACT.  99 

"  Ah,  ah  !  mystery  1  So  much  the  better ;  I  am  fond 
of  mystery.  There  is  almost  always  something  to  be 
gained  when  people  begin  by  saying,  '  Hush  ! '  In  any 
case,  you  cannot  do  better  than  address  yourself  to  your 
servant,"  continued  the  captain,  resorting  again  to  mytho- 
logical allusions.  "  You  see  in  me  the  grandson  of  Har- 
pocrates,  the  god  of  silence  ;    so  do  not  be  uneasy." 

"  That  is  well,  Captain,"  answered  D'Harmental ;  "  for 
I  confess  that  what  I  have  to  say  to  you  is  of  sufficient 
importance  for  me  to  claim  your  discretion  beforehand." 

"  It  is  granted,  Chevalier.  While  I  was  giving  a  lesson 
to  little  Eavanne,  I  saw,  out  of  a  corner  of  my  eye,  that 
you  were  a  skilful  swordsman ;  and  I  love  brave  men. 
Then  in  return  for  a  little  service  of  trifling  importance, 
you  gave  me  a  horse  worth  a  hundred  louis ;  and  I  love 
generous  men.  Thus,  since  you  are  twice  my  man,  why 
should  I  not  be  yours  once1?" 

"  Well,"  said  the  chevalier,  "  I  see  that  we  understand 
each  other." 

"  Speak,  and  I  will  listen,"  answered  the  captain, 
assuming  his  gravest  air. 

"  You  will  listen  better  seated,  my  dear  guest.  Let  us 
go  to  breakfast." 

"  You  preach  like  Saint  Jean  Bouche  d'Or,  Chevalier," 
said  the  captain,  taking  off  his  sword  and  placing  that  and 
his  hat  on  the  harpsichord;  "so  that,"  he  continued, 
sitting  down  opposite  D'Harmental,  "one  cannot  differ 
from  you  in  opinion.  I  am  here ;  command  the  manoeuvre, 
and  I  will  execute  it." 

" Taste  that  wine  while  I  cut  the p&te" 

"That  is  right,"  said  the  captain;  " let  us  divide  our 
forces  and  fight  the  enemy  separately  ;  then  let  us  reunite 
to  exterminate  what  remains." 

And  joining  practice  to  theory,  the  captain  seized  the 


100  LE  CHEVALIER   D'HARMENTAL. 

first  bottle  by  the  neck,  drew  the  cork,  and  having  poured' 
out  a  bumper,  drank  it  off  with  such  ease  that  one  would 
have  said  that  Nature  had  gifted  him  with  some  peculiar 
faculty  of  deglutition.  However,  to  do  him  justice,  as 
soon  as  he  had  swallowed  it,  he  perceived  that  the  liquor 
which  he  had  disposed  of  so  cavalierly  merited  a  more 
particular  attention  than  he  had  given  it. 

"  Oh  !  M  said  he,  clicking  his  tongue,  and  putting  down 
hit*  glass  with  a  respectful  deliberation,  "  what  have  I 
done,  unworthy  that  I  am?  I  drink  nectar  as  if  it  were 
trash,  and  that  at  the  beginning  of  the  feast !  Ah  !  "  he 
continued,  shaking  his  head,  "  Roquefinette,  my  friend,  , 
you  are  getting  old.  Ten  years  ago  you  would  have 
known  what  it  was  when  the  first  drop  touched  your 
palate,  while  now  you  want  many  trials  to  know  the 
worth  of  things.     To  your  health,  Chevalier  !  " 

And  this  time  the  captain,  more  circumspect,  drank  the 
second  glass  slowly,  and  set  it  down  three  times  before  he 
finished  it,  winking  his  eyes  in  sign  of  satisfaction.  Then 
when  he  had  finished,  "  This,"  he  said,  "  is  of  the  hermi- 
tage of  1702,  the  year  of  the  battle  of  Friedlingen.  If 
your  wine-merchant  has  much  like  that,  and  if  he  will 
give  credit,  let  me  have  his  address.  I  promise  him  a 
good   customer." 

"Captain,"  answered  the  chevalier,  slipping  an  enor- 
mous slice  of  pate  upon  the  plate  of  his  guest,  "  my  wine- 
merchant  not  only  gives  credit,  but  to  my  friends  he  gives 
altogether." 

"  Oh,  the  honest  man  !  "  cried  the  captain.  Then  after 
a  minute's  silence,  during  which  a  superficial  observer 
would  have  thought  him  absorbed  in  appreciation  of  the 
pate,  as  he  had  been  an  instant  before  in  that  of  the  wine, 
he  leaned  his  two  elbows  on  the  table,  and  looking  at 
D'Harmental  with  a  sly  expression  between  his  knife  and 


THE  CONTRACT.  101 

fork,  "So,  my  dear  Chevalier,"  said  he,  "we  conspire,  it 
seems ;  and  in  order  to  succeed,  we  have  need  of  poor 
Captain  Roquefinette." 

"  And  who  told  you  that,  Captain1?"  broke  in  the 
chevalier,  trembling  in  spite  of  himself. 

"  Who  told  me  that  1  Pardieu!  it  is  an  easy  riddle  to 
solve.  A  man  who  gives  away  horses  worth  a  hundred 
loais,  who  drinks  wine  at  a  pistole  the  bottle,  and  who 
lodges  in  a  garret  in  the  Rue  du  Temps-Perdu,  what  the 
devil  do  you  imagine  he  is  doing  if  not  conspiring  ? " 

"  Well,  Captain,"  said  D'Harinental,  laughing,  "  I  shall 
never  be  discreet ;  you  have  divined  the  truth.  Does  a  con- 
spiracy frighten  you  1 "  he  continued,  filling  his  guest's  glass. 

"  Me  1  frighten  me  !  Who  says  that  anything  on  earth 
can  frighten  Captain  Roquefinette  1 " 

"  Not  I,  Captain ;  for  at  the  first  glance,  at  the  first 
word,  I  fixed  on  you  as  my  second." 

"  Ah,  that  is  to  say  that  if  you  are  hung  on  a  scaffold 
twenty  feet  high,  I  shall  be  hung  on  one  ten  feet  high, 
that 's  all !  " 

"  Peste  /  Captain,"  said  D'Harmental,  refilling  his  glass, 
"  if  one  always  began  by  seeing  things  in  their  worst 
light,  one  never  would  attempt  anything." 

"Because  I  have  spoken  of  the  gallows'?"  answered 
the  captain.  "  That  proves  nothing.  What  is  the  gal- 
lows in  the  eyes  of  a  philosopher  1  One  of  the  thousand 
ways  of  parting  from  life,  and  certainly  one  of  the  least 
disagreeable.  One  can  see  that  you  never  have  looked 
the  thing  in  the  face,  since  you  have  such  an  aversion  to 
it.  Besides,  on  proving  our  noble  descent,  we  shall  have 
our  heads  cut  off,  like  Monsieur  de  Rohan.  Did  you  see 
Monsieur  de  Rohan's  head  cut  off?"  continued  the  cap- 
tain, looking  at  D'Harinental.  "  He  was  a  handsome 
young  man,  like  you,  and  of  about  your  age.     He  con- 


•  .  •  •  •  • 


102 


"  LE  CHEVALIER*  6'HARMENTAL. 


spired,  as  you  propose  doing,  but  the  conspiracy  was  a 
failure.  That  is  always  possible,  for  any  one  may  be 
deceived.  They  built  him  a  beautiful  black  scaffold  j 
they  allowed  him  to  turn  toward  the  window  where  his 
mistress  was  ;  they  cut  the  neck  of  his  shirt  with  scissors. 
But  the  executioner  was  a  bungler,  accustomed  to  hang 
and  not  to  decapitate,  so  that  he  was  obliged  to  strike 
three  or  four  times  to  cut  the  head  off,  and  after  all,  was 
obliged  to  use  a  knife  which  he  drew  from  his  girdle,  and 
with  which  he  chopped  so  well  that  he  at  last  succeeded. 
Come,  you  are  a  brave  man,"  continued  the  captain,  see- 
ing that  the  chevalier  had  listened  without  frowning  to 
the  details  of  that  horrible  execution.  "  Enough !  I 
am  your  man.  Against  whom  are  we  conspiring  1  Let 
us  see.  Is  it  against  Monsieur  le  Due  du  Maine  1  Is  it 
against  Monsieur  le  Due  d'Orleans  1  Must  we  break  the 
lame  one's  other  leg1?  Must  we  cut  out  the  blind  one's 
other  eye?     I  am  ready." 

"  Nothing  of  all  that,  Captain  ;  and  if  it  pleases  God, 
there  will  be  no  blood  spilled." 

"What  is  going  on,  then?" 

"  Have  you  ever  heard  of  the  abduction  of  the  Duke  of 
Mantua's  secretary  1  " 

"  Of  Matthioli  ?" 

"Yes." 

"  Pardieu  !  I  know  the  affair  better  than  any  one,  for  I 
saw  them  pass  as  they  were  conducting  him  to  Pignerol. 
It  was  the  Chevalier  de  Saint-Martin  and  Monsieur  de 
Villebois  who  did  it ;  and  by  this  token,  they  each  had 
three  thousand  francs  for  themselves  and  their  men." 

"That  was  only  middling  pay,"  said  D'Harmental, 
with  a  disdainful  air. 

"  You  think  so,  Chevalier  1  Nevertheless,  three  thou- 
sand francs  is  a  nice  little  sum." 


THE  CONTRACT.  103 

"  Then  for  three  thousand  francs  you  would  have  under- 
taken it  ?  " 

"  I  would  have  undertaken  it,"  answered  the  captain. 

"  But  if  instead  of  carrying  off  a  secretary,  it  had  been 
proposed  to  you  to  carry  off  a  duke  % " 

"  That  would  have  been  dearer." 

"  But  you  would  have  undertaken  it  all  the  same  ?  " 

"  Why  not  1     I  should  have  asked  double,  that  is  all." 

"  And  if  while  giving  you  double  pay,  a  man  like  my- 
self had  said  to  you,  *  Captain,  it  is  not  an  obscure  danger 
that  I  plunge  you  into ;  it  is  a  struggle  in  which  I  am 
myself  engaged,  like  you,  and  in  which  I  venture  my 
name,  my  future,  and  my  head/  what  would  you  have 
answered  1 " 

44  I  would  have  given  him  my  hand,  as  I  now  give  it 
you.     Now  what  is  the  business?" 

The  chevalier  filled  his  own  glass  and  that  of  the 
captain. 

"  To  the  health  of  the  regent,"  said  he,  "  and  may  he 
arrive  without  accident  at  the  Spanish  frontier,  as  Mat- 
thioii  arrived  at  Pignerol !  " 

"  Ah,  ah  ! "  said  the  captain,  raising  his  glass.  Then, 
after  a  pause,  "  And  why  not  1 "  he  continued  ;  ''  the 
regent  is  but  a  man,  after  all.  Only  we  shall  neither  be 
hung  nor  decapitated ;  we  shall  be  broken  on  the  wheel. 
To  any  one  else  I  should  say  that  a  regent  would  be 
dearer;  but  to  you,  Chevalier,  I  have  only  one  price. 
Give  me  six  thousand  francs,  and  I  will  find  a  dozen 
determined  men." 

"  But  those  twelve  men,  —  do  you  think  that  you 
may  trust  them  1 " 

44  What  need  for  their  knowing  what  they  are  doing? 
They  will  think  they  are  only  carrying  out  a  wager." 

"  And  I,  Captain,"  said  D'Harmental,  opening  a  desk 


104  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

and  taking  from  it  a  bag  containing  a  thousand  pistoles, 
"  will  show  you  that  I  do  not  haggle  with  my  friends. 
Here  are  two  thousand  francs  in  gold.  Take  them  on 
account  if  we  succeed ,   if  we  fail,  we  will  cry  quits." 

"Chevalier,"  answered  the  captain,  taking  the  bag  of 
money  and  poising  it  on  his  hand  with  an  indescribable 
air  of  satisfaction,  "  I  will  not  do  you  the  injustice  of 
counting  after  you.     When  is  the  affair  to  heV* 

"  I  do  not  know  yet,  Captain  ;  but  if  you  find  the 
pdte  to  your  taste,  and  the  wine  good,  and  if  you  will 
do  me  the  pleasure  of  breakfasting  with  me  every  day 
as  you  have  done  to-day,  I  will  keep  you  informed  of 
everything." 

"  That  would  not  do,  Chevalier,"  said  the  captain.  "  I 
should  not  have  come  to  you  three  mornings  before  the 
police  of  that  cursed  D'Argenson  would  be  on  our  tracks. 
Luckily,  he  has  to  deal  with  some  one  as  clever  as  him- 
self, and  I  am  used  to  playing  hide-and-seek  with  him. 
No,  no,  Chevalier,  from  now  till  the  moment  for  action, 
the  less  we  see  of  each  other  the  better ;  or  rather,  we  must 
not  see  each  other  at  all.  Your  street  is  not  a  long  one, 
and  as  it  opens  at  one  end  on  the  Rue  du  Gros-Chenet, 
and  at  the  other  on  the  Rue  Montmartre,  I  shall  have  no 
reason  for  coming  through  it.  Here,"  he  continued,  de- 
taching his  shoulder-knot,  "take  this  ribbon.  The  day 
that  you  want  me,  tie  it  to  a  nail  outside  your  window. 
I  shall  understand  what  that  means,  and  will  climb  your 
stairs." 

"  What,  Captain ! "  said  D'Harmental,  seeing  that  his 
companion  had  risen  and  was  fastening  on  his  sword.  "Are 
you  going  without  finishing  the  bottle  1  What  has  the 
wine,  which  you  appeared  to  appreciate  so  much  a  little 
while  ago,  done  to  you,  that  you  despise  it  so  now  ? " 

"It  is  just  because  I  appreciate  it  still  that  I  tear 


THE  CONTRACT.  105 

myself  away  from  it ;  and  the  proof  that  I  do  not  despise 
it,"  said  the  captain,  filling  his  glass,  "  is  that  I  am  going 
to  say  to  it  a  last  adieu.  To  your  health,  Chevalier !  you 
may  boast  of  having  good  wine.  Hum  !  And  now,  n-o, 
no,  that  is  all.  I  shall  take  to  water  till  I  see  the  ribbon 
flutter  from  your  window.  Try  to  let  it  be  as  soon  as 
possible,  for  water  is  a  liquid  that  plays  the  devil  with 
my  constitution." 

"  But  why  do  you  go  so  soon  ] " 

"  Because  I  know  Captain  Eoquefinette.  He  is  a  good 
fellow;  but  when  he  sits  down  before  a  bottle  he  must 
drink,  and  when  he  has  drunk  he  must  talk ;  and  how- 
ever well  one  talks,  remember  that  those  who  talk  much 
always  finish  by  making  some  blunder.  Adieu,  Cheva- 
lier. Do  not  forget  the  crimson  ribbon ;  I  go  to  look 
after  our  business." 

"  Adieu,  Captain,"  said  D'Harmental ;  "  I  am  pleased  to 
see  that  I  have  no  need  to  preach  discretion  to  you." 

The  captain  made  the  sign  of  the  cross  on  his  mouth 
with  his  right  thumb,  placed  his  hat  straight  on  his  head, 
raised  his  sword  for  fear  of  its  making  a  noise  in  striking 
against  the  wall,  and  went  downstairs  as  silently  as  if 
he  had  feared  that  every  step  would  echo  in  the  Hotel 
d'Argenson. 


106  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HAKMENTAL. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

SEE-SAW. 

The  chevalier  remained  alone ;  but  in  the  conversation 
which  he  had  had  with  the  captain  he  found  so  much 
matter  for  reflection  that  it  was  unnecessary  for  him  to 
have  recourse  either  to  the  ■  poetry  of  the  Abbe  de  Chau- 
lieu,  his  harpsichord,  or  his  crayons.  Indeed,  until  now 
he  had  been  only  half  engaged  in  the  hazardous  enter- 
prise of  which  the  Duchesse  du  Maine  and  the  Prince  de 
Cellamare  had  predicted  to  him  the  happy  ending,  and  of 
which  the  captain,  in  order  to  try  his  courage,  had  so 
brutally  exhibited  to  him  the  bloody  termination  that 
might  ensue.  As  yet  he  had  only  been  the  end  of  a 
chain,  and  on  breaking  away  from  one  side,  he  would 
have  been  loose.  Now  he  had  become  an  intermediate 
link,  fastened  at  both  ends,  and  attached  at  the  same 
time  to  the  highest  and  the  lowest  extremes  of  society. 
In  a  word,  from  this  hour  he  no  longer  belonged  to  him- 
self; he  was  like  the  Alpine  traveller,  who,  having  lost  his 
way,  stops  in  the  middle  of  an  unknown  road,  and  meas- 
ures with  his  eye,  for  the  first  time,  the  mountain  which 
rises  above  him  and  the  gulf  which  yawns  beneath  his  feet. 
Happily,  the  chevalier  had  the  calm,  cold,  and  resolute 
courage  of  a  man  in  whom  blood  and  bile,  —  those  two 
opposite  forces,  —  instead  of  neutralizing,  stimulated  each 
other.  He  engaged  in  a  perilous  enterprise  with  all  the 
impetuosity  of  the  sanguine  temperament ;  and  once  en- 
gaged in  that  enterprise,  he  faced  its  peril  with  the  quiet 


SEE-SAW.  107 

resolution  of  the  bilious  temperament.  And  therefore 
the  chevalier  was  likely  to  be  as  dangerous  in  a  con- 
spiracy as  in  a  duel ;  for  as  his  calmness  enabled  him  in 
a  duel  to  take  advantage  of  the  slightest  error  on  the  part 
of  his  adversary,  so  in  a  conspiracy  it  would  enable  him 
to  reunite,  as  often  as  they  were  broken,  those  impercep- 
tible threads  on  which  the  success  of  great  enterprises 
depends.  Madame  du  Maine  had  good  reason  for  saying 
to  Mademoiselle  de  Launay  that  she  might  put  out  her 
lantern,  and  that  she  believed  she  had  at  last  found  a 
man. 

But  this  man  was  young,  twenty-six  years  of  age,  with 
a  heart  open  to  all  the  illusions  and  all  the  poetry  of  that 
early  period  of  life.  As  a  child  he  had  laid  down  his 
playthings  at  the  feet  of  his  mother.  As  a  young  man 
he  had  come  to  exhibit  his  handsome  uniform  as  colonel 
to  the  eyes  of  his  mistress.  Indeed,  in  every  enterprise 
of  his  life  some  loved  image  had  gone  before  him,  and  he 
had  thrown  himself  into  danger  with  the  certainty  that 
if  he  should  perish,  there  would  be  some  one  surviving 
who  would  mourn  his  fate. 

But  his  mother  was  dead ;  the  last  woman  by  whom  he 
had  believed  himself  loved  had  betrayed  him ;  and  he  felt 
that  he  was  alone  in  the  world,  bound  solely  by  interest 
to  men  to  whom  he  would  become  an  obstacle  as  soon  as 
he  ceased  to  be  an  instrument,  anc  who,  if  he  should  fall, 
far  from  mourning  his  loss,  would  only  see  in  it  a  cause 
of  satisfaction.  Now,  this  isolated  position,  which  ought 
to  be  desired  by  all  men  in  a  great  danger,  is  almost 
always  (such  is  the  egotism  of  our  nature)  a  cause  of  pro- 
found discouragement.  Such  is  the  horror  of  nothingness 
in  man  that  he  believes  he  still  survives  in  the  sentiments 
which  he  has  inspired,  and  he  in  some  measure  consoles 
himself  for  leaving  the  world  by  thinking  of  the  regrets 


108  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HAKMENTAL. 

which  will  accompany  his  memory,  and  of  the  devotion 
which  will  visit  his  tomb.  Thus,  at  this  crisis,  the  cheva- 
lier would  have  given  everything  to  be  loved,  if  it  was 
only  by  a  dog. 

He  was  plunged  in  the  saddest  of  these  reflections 
when,  passing  and  repassing  before  his  window,  he  no- 
ticed that  his  neighbor's  was  open.  He  stopped  suddenly 
and  shook  his  head,  as  if  to  cast  off  the  most  sombre  of 
his  thoughts;  then  leaning  his  elbow  on  the  table, 
and  his  head  on  his  hand,  he  tried  to  give  a  different 
direction  to  his  thoughts  by  looking  at  exterior  objects. 
But  man  is  no  more  the  master  of  his  waking  thoughts 
than  he  is  of  those  that  come  to  him  in  sleep ;  and  the 
dreams  that  visit  him,  whether  his  eyes  are  open  or  closed, 
follow  a  development  that  is  independent  of  his  will,  and 
attach  themselves,  beneath  his  consciousness,  to  invisible 
threads,  which,  vibrating  at  length  in  an  unexpected 
manner,  reveal  their  existence.  Then  objects  the  most 
incongruous  come  into  relation,  and  thoughts  the  most  in- 
coherent fall  into  place;  and  one  is  visited  by  fugitive 
gleams,  which  if  they  were  not  instantly  extinguished 
would  perhaps  disclose  future  events.  One  perceives  then 
that  there  is  something  wonderful  in  him,  and  compre- 
hends that  he  is  only  a  machine  moved  by  invisible  hands ; 
and  according  as  he  is  a  fatalist  or  a  believer  in  Provi- 
dence, he  bends  beneath  the  unintelligent  caprice  of  Chance, 
or  bows  before  the  mysterious  will  of  God. 

Thus  it  was  with  D'Harmental.  He  had  sought,  by 
looking  at  objects  foreign  to  his  remembrances  and  his 
hopes,  some  distraction  from  his  present  situation ;  and 
he  found  only  a  sequel  to  his  thoughts. 

The  young  girl  whom  he  had  seen  in  the  morning  was 
seated  near  her  window,  in  order  to  take  advantage  of  the 
last  rays  of  daylight ;  she  was  working  at  some  kind  of 


SEE-SAW.  109 

embroidery.  Behind  her  the  harpsichord  was  open,  and 
on  a  stool  at  her  feet  her  greyhound  slept  the  light  sleep 
of  an  animal  destined  by  nature  to  be  the  guard  of  man, 
waking  at  every  noise  which  arose  from  the  street,  raising 
its  ears,  and  stretching  out  its  elegant  head  over  the 
window-sill;  then  it  lay  down  again,  placing  one  of  its 
little  paws  upon  its  mistress's  knees.  All  this  was  deli- 
ciously  lighted  up  by  the  rays  of  the  sinking  sun,  which 
penetrated  into  the  room,  sparkling  on  the  steel  orna- 
ments of  the  harpsichord  and  the  gold  beading  of  the 
picture-frames.     The  rest  was  in   twilight. 

Then  it  seemed  to  the  chevalier  —  perhaps  because  of 
the  mood  he  was  in  when  this  picture  caught  his  eye  — 
that  this  young  girl  with  the  calm  and  sweet  face  came 
into  his  life  like  one  of  those  personages  who  remain 
behind  the  scenes  until  a  given  moment  arrives,  and  then 
in  the  second  or  third  act  make  their  entry  to  take  part 
in  the  action,  and  sometimes  to  change  the  denouement. 

Since  he  had  been  of  the  age  when  one  sees  angels  in 
one's  dreams,  he  had  seen  no  one  like  her.  She  was  a 
combination  of  beauty,  candor,  and  simplicity,  such  as 
may  be  seen  sometimes  in  those  charming  heads  which 
Greuze  has  copied,  not  from  nature,  but  from  the  reflec- 
tions in  the  mirror  of  his  imagination.  Then  forgetting 
everything,  —  the  humble  condition  in  which  without 
doubt  she  had  been  born,  the  street  where  he  had  found  her, 
the  modest  room  which  she  had  inhabited,  —  seeing  nothing 
in  the  woman  except  the  woman  herself,  he  attributed  to 
her  a  heart  corresponding  with  her  face,  and  thought 
what  would  be  the  happiness  of  the  man  who  should  first 
cause  that  heart  to  beat,  who  should  be  looked  upon  with 
love  by  those  beautiful  eyes,  and  who  in  a  first  kiss 
should  gather  from  those  lips,  so  fresh  and  so  pure,  that 
flower  of  the  soul,  —  the  confession,  "I  love  you." 


110  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

Such  are  the  different  aspects  which  the  same  objects 
borrow  from  the  situation  of  him  who  looks  at  them. 
A  week  before,  in  the  midst  of  his  gayety,  in  his  life 
which  no  danger  menaced,  between  a  breakfast  at  the 
tavern  and  a  stag-hunt,  between  a  wager  at  tennis  and 
a  supper  at  La  Fillon's,  if  D'Harmental  had  met  this 
young  girl  he  would  doubtless  have  seen  in  her  noth- 
ing but  a  charming  grisette,  whom  he  would  have  had 
followed  by  his  valet  de  chambre,  and  to  whom  the 
next  day  he  would  have  outrageously  offered  a  present 
of  some  twenty-five  louis. 

But  the  D'Harmental  of  a  week  ago  existed  no  more. 
In  the  place  of  the  handsome  seigneur  —  elegant,  wild,  dis- 
sipated, and  certain  of  life  —  was  an  isolated  young  man, 
walking  in  the  shade,  alone,  and  self-reliant,  without  a 
star  to  guide  him,  who  might  suddenly  feel  the  earth 
open  under  his  feet,  or  the  heavens  burst  above  his  head. 
He  had  need  of  a  support,  so  feeble  was  he ;  he  had  need 
of  love ;  he  had  need  of  poetry.  It  was  not  then  wonder- 
ful that  searching  for  a  Madonna  to  whom  to  address  his 
prayers,  he  raised  in  his  imagination  this  young  and  beau- 
tiful girl  from  the  material  and  prosaic  sphere  in  which 
he  found  her,  and  that  drawing  her  into  his  own  he 
placed  her  —  not  such  as  she  was,  doubtless,  but  such 
as  he  wished  her  to  be  —  on  the  empty  pedestal  of  his 
past  adorations. 

All  at  once  the  young  girl  raised  her  head,  and  hap- 
pening to  look  in  his  direction  saw  the  pensive  figure 
of  the  chevalier  through  the  glass.  It  appeared  evident 
to  her  that  the  young  man  remained  there  on  her  account, 
and  that  it  was  at  her  he  was  looking.  Then  a  bright 
blush  spread  over  her  face.  However,  she  pretended  she 
had  seen  nothing,  and  bent  her  head  once  more  over  her 
embroidery.      But  a  minute  afterward  she  rose,   moved 


SEE-SAW.  HI 

carelessly  about  the  room,  and  then  without  ostentation 
or  appearance  of  false  prudery,  but  nevertheless  with  a 
certain  embarrassment,  she  returned  and  shut  the  win- 
dow. D'Harmental  remained  where  he  was  and  as  he 
was,  continuing,  in  spite  of  the  shutting  of  the  window, 
to  advance  into  the  imaginary  country  where  his  thoughts 
were  straying. 

Once  or  twice  he  thought  that  he  saw  the  curtain  of 
his  neighbor's  window  raised,  as  if  she  wished  to  know 
whether  he  whose  indiscretion  had  driven  her  from  her 
place  was  still  at  his.  At  last  a  few  masterly  chords  were 
heard ;  a  sweet  harmony  followed  ;  and  then  D'Harmen- 
tal opened  his  window  in  his  turn. 

He  had  not  been  mistaken  ;  his  neighbor  was  an  ad- 
mirable musician.  She  executed  two  or  three  little  pieces, 
but  without  blending  her  voice  with  the  sound  of  the 
instrument  ;  and  D'Harmental  found  almost  as  much 
pleasure  in  listening  to  her  as  he  had  found  in  looking 
at  her.  Suddenly  she  stopped  in  the  midst  of  a  passage. 
D'Harmental  supposed  either  that  she  had  seen  him  at 
his  window,  and  wished  to  punish  him  for  his  curiosity, 
or  that  some  one  had  come  in  and  interrupted  her.  He 
stepped  back,  but  placed  himself  so  as  not  to  lose  sight  of 
the  window,  and  soon  discovered  that  his  last  supposition 
was  the  true  one. 

A  man  came  to  the  window,  raised  the  curtain,  and 
pressed  his  fat,  good-natured  face  against  the  glass,  while 
with  one  hand  he  beat  a  march  against  the  panes.  The 
chevalier  recognized,  in  spite  of  a  noticeable  difference  in 
his  toilet,  the  man  of  the  water-jet  whom  he  had  seen  on 
the  terrace  in  the  morning,  and  who  had  twice  pronounced 
so  familiarly  the  name  of  "Bathilde." 

This  figure,  more  than  prosaic,  produced  the  effect 
which  naturally  might  have  been  expected ;  that  is  to 


112  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

say,  it  brought  D'Harmental  back  from  imaginary  to  real 
life.  He  had  forgotten  this  man,  who  made  such  a 
strange  and  complete  contrast  with  the  young  girl,  and 
who  of  course  must  be  her  father,  her  lover,  or  her  hus- 
band. But  in  either  of  these  cases,  what  could  there  be 
in  common  between  the  daughter,  the  wife,  or  the  mis- 
tress of  such  a  man,  and  the  noble  and  aristocratic  cheva- 
lier ?  A  woman- —  and  it  is  a  misfortune  springing  from 
her  dependent  situation  —  rises  or  falls  according  to  the 
grandeur  or  vulgarity  of  him  on  whose  arm  she  leans; 
and  it  must  be  confessed  that  the  gardener  was  not 
formed  to  maintain  poor  Bathilde  at  the  height  to  which' 
the  chevalier  had  raised  her  in  his  dreams. 

Then  he  began  to  laugh  at  his  own  folly ;  and  the  night 
having  arrived,  inasmuch  as  he  had  not  been  outside  the 
door  since  the  day  before,  he  determined  to  take  a  walk 
through  the  town,  in  order  to  assure  himself  of  the  truth 
of  the  Prince  de  Cellamare's  reports.  He  wrapped  him- 
self in  his  cloak,  descended  the  four  stories,  and  bent  his 
steps  toward  the  Luxembourg,  whither,  according  to  the 
note  which  the  Abb£  Brigaud  had  brought  him  in  the 
morning,  the  regent  was  going  that  evening,  without 
guards,  to  take  supper  with  his  daughter. 

Arrived  opposite  the  palace  of  the  Luxembourg,  the 
chevalier  saw  none  of  those  signs  which  should  announce 
that  the  Due  d'Orleans  was  at  his  daughter's  house. 
There  was  only  one  sentinel  at  the  door,  whereas,  from 
the  moment  that  the  regent  entered,  a  second  was  gen- 
erally placed  there.  Besides,  he  saw  no  carriage  waiting 
in  the  court,  no  footmen  nor  outriders  ;  it  was  evident, 
then,  that  Monsieur  ie  Due  d'Orleans  had  not  yet  come. 
The  chevalier  waited  to  see  him  pass,  for  as  the  regent 
never  breakfasted,  and  took  nothing  but  a  cup  of  choco- 
late at  two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  he  rarely  supped  later 


SEE-SAW.  113 

than  six  o'clock ;  and  a  quarter  to  six  had  struck  at  the 
St.  Sulpice  at  the  moment  when  the  chevalier  turned  the 
corner  of  the  Rue  de  Conde  and  the  Rue  de  Vaugirard. 

The  chevalier  waited  an  hour  and  a  half  in  the  Rue  de 
Tournon,  going  from  the  Rue  du  Petit-Lion  to  the  palace, 
without  seeing  what  he  had  come  to  look  for.  At  a  quar- 
ter to  eight  he  saw  signs  of  activity  at  the  Luxembourg. 
A  carriage,  with  outriders  armed  with  torches,  came  to  the 
foot  of  the  steps.  A  minute  later  three  women  got  in, 
and  he  heard  the  coachman  call  to  the  outriders,  "  To  the 
Palais  Royal !  "  The  outriders  set  off  at  a  gallop,  the  car- 
riage followed,  the  sentinel  presented  arms ;  and  though 
the  elegant  equipage  with  the  royal  arms  of  France  passed 
him  quickly,  the  chevalier  recognized  the  Duchesse  de 
Berri,  Madame  de  Mouchy,  her  lady  of  honor,  and  Ma- 
dame de  Pons,  her  tire-woman. 

There  had  been  an  important  error  in  the  report  sent  to 
the  chevalier ;  it  was  the  daughter  who  went  to  the  father, 
not  the  father  who  went  to  the  daughter. 

Nevertheless,  the  chevalier  still  waited,  for  some  acci- 
dent might  have  happened  to  the  regent,  which  had  de- 
tained him  at  home.  An  hour  after,  he  saw  the  carriage 
return.  The  Duchesse  de  Berri  was  laughing  at  a  story 
which  Broglie  was  telling  her.  Then  there  had  not  been 
any  serious  accident.  The  police  of  the  Prince  de  Cella- 
mare  had  made  a  mistake. 

The  chevalier  returned  home  about  ten  o'clock  without 
having  been  recognized.  He  had  some  trouble  to  get  the 
door  opened,  for  according  to  the  patriarchal  habits  of 
Madame  Denis's  house,  the  porter  had  gone  to  bed.  He 
came  out  grumbling  to  unfasten  the  bolts.  D'Harmental 
slipped  a  crown  into  his  hand,  saying  to  him,  once  for  all, 
that  he  should  sometimes  return  late,  but  that  every  time 
he  did  so  he  would  give  hirn  the  same  gratuity ;  upon 

8 


114  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

which  the  porter  thanked  him,  and  assured  him  that  he 
was  perfectly  welcome  to  come  home  at  any  time  he  liked, 
or  even  not  to  return  at  all. 

On  returning  to  his  room,  D'Harmental  saw  that  his 
neighbor's  was  lighted  up ;  he  placed  his  candle  behind 
a  piece  of  furniture,  and  approached  the  window,  so  that 
as  much  as  the  muslin  curtains  allowed,  he  could  see  into 
her  room,  while  she  could  not  see  into  his. 

She  was  seated  near  a  table,  drawing  probably  on  a 
card  which  she  held  on  her  knees,  for  he  saw  her  profile 
standing  out  black  against  the  light  behind  her.  Shortly 
another  shadow,  which  the  chevalier  recognized  as  that  of 
the  good  man  of  the  terrace,  passed  twice  between  the 
light  and  the  window.  At  last  the  shade  approached  the 
young  girl;  she  offered  her  forehead;  the  shadow  imprinted 
a  kiss  on  it,  and  went  away  with  his  candle  in  his  hand. 
Directly  afterward  the  windows  of  the  fifth  story  were 
lighted  up.  All  these  little  circumstances  spoke  a  lan- 
guage which  it  was  impossible  not  to  understand.  The 
man  of  the  terrace  was  not  the  husband  of  Bathilde ;  he 
must  be  her  father. 

D'Harmental,  without  knowing  why,  felt  overjoyed  at 
this  discovery ;  he  opened  his  window  as  softly  as  he 
could,  and  leaned  on  the  bar,  which  served  him  as  a  sup- 
port, with  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  shadow.  He  fell  into 
the  same  re  very  out  of  which  he  had  been  startled  that 
morning  by  the  grotesque  appearance  of  the  gardener.  In 
about  an  hour  the  girl  rose,  put  down  her  card  and  cray- 
ons on  the  table,  advanced  toward  the  alcove,  knelt  on 
a  chair  before  the  second  window,  and  offered  up  her 
prayers.  D'Harmental  understood  that  her  laborious  task 
was  finished ;  but  remembering  the  curiosity  of  hi%  beau- 
tiful neighbor  when  he  had  begun  to  play  the  first  time, 
he  wished  to  see  if  he  could  delay  her  retiring,  and  he 


SEE-SAW.  115 

sat  down  to  his  spinet.  What  he  had  foreseen  happened ; 
at  the  first  notes  which  reached  her,  the  young  girl,  not 
knowing  that  owing  to  the  position  of  the  light  he  could 
see  her  shadow  through  the  curtains,  approached  the  win- 
dow on  tiptoe,  and  thinking  herself  hidden,  she  listened 
to  the  melodious  instrument,  which,  like  the  nightingale, 
awoke  to  sing  in  the  middle  of  the  night. 

The  concert  would  have  probably  continued  thus  for 
some  hours,  for  D'Harinental,  encouraged  by  the  result 
produced,  was  conscious  of  an  energy  and  an  ease  of  ex- 
ecution such  as  he  never  had  known  before.  Unluckily, 
the  occupier  of  the  third  floor  was  some  clown  not  fond  of 
music ;  and  D'Harmental  heard  suddenly,  just  beneath  his 
feet,  the  noise  of  a  stick  knocking  on  the  ceiling  with 
such  violence  that  he  could  not  doubt  that  it  was  a  re- 
quest to  him  to  put  off  his  melodious  occupation  till  a 
more  suitable  period.  Under  other  circumstances,  D'Har- 
mental would  have  sent  the  impertinent  marplot  to  the 
devil ;  but  he  reflected  that  any  ill-feeling  on  the  lodger's 
part  would  injure  his  own  reputation  with  Madame  Denis, 
and  that  he  was  playing  too  heavy  a  game  to  risk  being 
recognized  through  unwillingness  to  submit  philosophi- 
cally to  all  the  inconveniences  of  the  new  position  which 
he  had  adopted.  He  therefore,  instead  of  setting  himself 
in  opposition  to  the  rules  established  without  doubt  be- 
tween Madame  Denis  and  her  lodgers,  yielded  to  the 
request,  and  forgot  in  what  manner  it  had  been  conveyed 
to  him. 

On  her  part,  as  soon  as  she  heard  nothing  more,  the 
young  girl  left  the  window ;  and  as  she  let  the  inner  cur- 
tains fall  behind  her,  she  disappeared  from  D'Harmental's 
eyes.  For  some  time  longer  he  could  still  see  a  light  in 
her  room;  then  the  light  was  extinguished.  The  window 
on  the  fifth  floor  had  been  dark  for  two  hours.     D'Har 


116  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

mental  also  went  to  bed,  happy  in  the  thought  that  there 
existed  a  point  of  sympathy  between  himself  and  his 
neighbor. 

The  next  day  the  Abbe  Brigaud  entered  the  room  with  his 
accustomed  punctuality.  The  chevalier  had  already  been 
up  more  than  an  hour;  he  had  gone  twenty  times  to  his 
window,  but  without  seeing  his  neighbor,  although  it  was 
evident  that  she  was  up,  even  before  himself ;  indeed,  on 
waking,  he  had  seen  that  the  large  curtains  were  put  up  in 
their  bands.  Thus  he  was  disposed  to  let  out  his  ill- 
humor  on  any  one. 

"  Ah,  pardieu  /  my  dear  Abbe,"  said  he,  as  soon  as  the 
door  was  shut,  "  congratulate  the  prince  for  me  on  his 
police  service  ;  it  is  admirably  performed,  on  my  honor." 

"  What  have  you  to  say  against  it  1  "  asked  the  abbe, 
with  the  half-smile  which  was  habitual  to  him. 

"  What  have  I  to  say  ?  I  have  this  :  that  last  evening, 
wishing  to  judge  for  myself  of  its  reliability,  I  went  and 
hid  myself  in  the  Rue  Tournon;  that  I  remained  there 
four  hours,  and  that  it  was  not  the  regent  who  went  to  his 
daughter,  but  Madame  de  Berri  who  went  to  her  father." 

"  Well,  we  know  that." 

"  Ah,  you  know  that !  "  said  D'Harmental. 

"  Yes,  and  by  this  token,  that  she  left  the  Luxembourg 
at  five  minutes  to  eight,  with  Madame  de  Mouchy  and 
Madame  de  Pons,  and  that  she  returned  at  half-past  nine, 
bringing  Broglie  with  her,  who  came  to  take  the  regent's 
place  at  table." 

"  And  where  was  the  regent  1 " 

"  The  regent  1 " 

"  Yes." 

"  That  is  another  story ;  you  shall  learn.  Listen,  and 
do  not  lose  a  word ;  then  we  shall  see  if  you  will  say  that 
the  prince's  police  service  is  badly  performed." 


SEE-SAW.  117 

•» I  attend." 

4t  Our  report  announced  that  at  three  o'clock  the  duke- 
regent  would  go  to  play  tennis  in  the  Rue  de  Seine." 

"Yes." 

"  He  went.  In  about  half  an  hour  he  went  away,  hold- 
ing his  handkerchief  over  his  eyes.  He  had  hit  himself 
on  the  brow  with  the  racket,  and  with  such  violence  that 
he  had  torn  the  skin  of  his  forehead." 

"  Ah,  this,  then,  was  the  accident !  " 

"  Listen.  Then  the  regent,  instead  of  returning  to  the 
Palais  Royal,  was  driven  to  the  house  of  Madame  de 
Sabran.     You  know  where  Madame  de  Sabran  lives  ?  " 

"  She  lived  in  the  Rue  de  Tournon ;  but  since  her  hus- 
band has  become  maitre  d'hotel  to  the  regent,  she  lives  in 
the  Rue  des  Bons-Enfans,  near  the  Palais  Royal." 

"Exactly;  but  it  seems  that  Madame  de  Sabran,  who 
until,  now  was  faithful  to  Richelieu,  was  touched  by  the 
pitiable  state  in  which  she  saw  the  prince,  and  wished  to 
justify  the  proverb,  i  Unlucky  at  play,  lucky  at  love.' 
The  prince,  by  a  little  note,  dated  half-past  seven,  from 
the  drawing-room  of  Madame  de  Sabran,  with  whom  he 
supped,  announced  to  Broglie  that  he  should  not  go  to  the 
Luxembourg,  and  charged  him  to  go  in  his  stead,  and 
make  his  excuses  to  the  Duchesse  de  Berri." 

"  Ah,  this,  then,  was  the  story  which  Broglie  was  tell- 
ing, and  at  which  the  ladies  were  laughing." 

"  It  is  probable ;  now  do  you  understand  1 " 

"  Yes  ;  I  understand  that  the  regent  is  not  possessed  of 
ubiquity,  and  could  not  be  at  the  house  of  Madame  de 
Sabran  and  at  his  daughter's  at  the  same  time." 

"  And  you  understand  only  that  1 " 

"My  dear  Abbe\  you  speak  like  an  oracle;  explain 
yourself." 

"  This  evening,  at  eight  o'clock,  I  will  come  for  you ; 


118  LE  CHEVALIER  D>HARMENTAL. 

we  will  go  to  the  Eue  des  Bons-Enfans  together.  The 
localities  will  speak  for  me." 

"  Ah,  ah  ! "  said  D'Harmental,  "  I  see ;  so  near  the 
Palais  Royal,  he  will  go  on  foot.  The  hotel  which  Ma- 
dame  de  Sabran  inhabits  has  an  entrance  from  the  Rue 
des  Bons-Enfans.  After  a  certain  hoar  they  shut  the  pas- 
sage from  the  Palais  Royal  which  opens  on  the  Rue  des 
Bons-Enfans ;  and  he  will  be  obliged,  on  his  return,  to 
follow  either  the  Cour  des  Fontaines,  or  the  Rue  Neuve- 
des-Bons-Enfans,  and  then  we  shall  have  him  !  Mordieu  / 
Abbe,  you  are  a  great  man,  and  if  Monsieur  du  Maine 
does  not  make  you  cardinal,  or  at  least  archbishop,  there 
is  no  longer  any  justice." 

"  I  count  confidently  on  that.  Now,  you  understand, 
it  is  time  to  make  ready." 

"  I  am  ready." 

"  Have  you  the  means  of  execution  prepared  1 " 

"  I  have." 

"  Then  you  can  correspond  with  your  men  ? " 

"  By  a  sign." 

"  And  that  sign  cannot  betray  you  1 " 

"  Impossible." 

"  Then  all  goes  well,  and  we  may  have  breakfast ;  for  I 
was  in  such  haste  to  tell  you  the  good  news  that  I  came 
out  fasting." 

"  Breakfast,  my  dear  Abbe !  you  speak  coolly ;  I  have 
nothing  to  offer  you  except  the  remains  of  yesterday's 
pdte  and  two  or  three  bottles  of  wine,  which  I  believe 
survived  the  battle." 

"  Hum,  hum,"  murmured  the  abbe  ;  "  we  will  do  bet- 
ter than  that,  my  dear  Chevalier." 

*  I  am  at  your  orders." 

"  Let  us  go  down  and  breakfast  with  our  good  hostess, 
Madame  Denis." 


SEE-SAW.  119 

"And  why  do  you  want  me  to  breakfast  with  her? 
Do  I  know  her?" 

"  That  concerns  me  ;  I  shall  present  you  as  my 
pupil." 

"  But  we  shall  get  a  detestable  breakfast." 

"  Comfort  yourself ;  I  know  her  table." 

u  But  this  breakfast  will  be  tiresome." 

"  But  you  will  make  a  friend  of  a  woman  well  known 
in  the  neighborhood  for  her  good  conduct,  for  her  devo- 
tion to  the  Government,  —  a  woman  incapable  of  harbor- 
ing a  conspirator.     Do  you  understand  that  1 " 

"  If  it  be  for  the  good  of  the  cause,  Abbe,  I  sacrifice 
myself." 

"  Moreover,  it  is  a  very  agreeable  house,  where  there 
are  two  young  people  who  play,  one  on  the  spinet,  and 
the  other  on  the  guitar,  and  a  young  man  who  is  an 
attorney's  clerk,  —  a  house  where  you  may  go  down  on 
Sunday  evenings  to  play  loto." 

"  Go  to  the  devil  with  your  Madame  Denis  !  Ah,  par- 
don, Abbe!  perhaps  you  are  her  friend.  In  that  case, 
imagine  that  I  have  said  nothing." 

"  I  am  her  confessor,"  replied  the  Abbe  Brigaud,  with 
a  modest  air. 

"  Then  a  thousand  excuses,  my  dear  Abbe"  j  but  you 
are  right  indeed.  Madame  Denis  is  still  a  beautiful 
woman,  perfectly  well  preserved,  with  superb  hands  and 
very  pretty  feet.  Peste  /  I  remember  that.  Go  .down 
first ;  I  will  follow." 

"Why  not  together?" 

"But  my  toilet,  Abbe.  Would  you  have  me  appear 
before  the  Demoiselles  Denis  with  my  hair  in  its  present 
state  1  Devil  take  it  !  one  owes  something  to  his  appear- 
ance. Besides,  it  is  better  that  you  should  announce  me, 
I  have  not  a  confessor's  privilege." 


120  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

"  You  are  right.  I  will  go  down  and  announce  you, 
and  in  ten  minutes  you  will  arrive ;  will  you  not  1 " 

"  In  ten  minutes." 

"Adieu!" 

"  Au  revoir !  " 

The  chevalier  had  told  only  half  the  truth.  He  re- 
mained partly  to  dress,  perhaps,  but  also  in  the  hope  of 
seeing  his  beautiful  neighbor,  of  whom  he  had  dreamed 
all  the  night ;  but  his  hope  was  disappointed.  He  hid 
himself  behind  the  curtains  of  his  window ;  those  of  the 
young  girl  with  the  fair  hair  and  the  beautiful  black  eyes 
remained  closed.  It  is  true  that  by  way  of  compensation 
he  could  perceive  the  horticulturist,  who,  opening  his 
door,  passed  out,  with  the  same  precaution  as  the  day 
before,  first  his  hand,  then  his  head ;  but  this  time  his 
boldness  went  no  further,  for  there  was  a  slight  fog, 
and  fog  is  essentially  contrary  to  the  organization  of 
the  Parisian  bourgeois.  Therefore  our  bourgeois  coughed 
twice,  and  then,  drawing  in  his  head  and  his  arm,  re- 
entered his  room  like  a  tortoise  withdrawing  into  his 
shell.  D'Harmental  saw  with  pleasure  that  he  might 
dispense  with  a  barometer,  and  that  this  neighbor  would 
render  him  the  same  service  as  those  excellent  wooden 
monks  who  come  out  from  their  hermitage  in  fair  weather, 
and  remain  obstinately  housed  on  the  days  when  it 
rains. 

The  apparition  had  its  ordinary  effect,  and  reacted  on 
poor  Bathilde.  Every  time  that  D'Harmental  perceived 
the  young  girl,  there  was  in  her  such  a  sweet  attraction 
that  he  saw  nothing  but  the  woman,  —  young,  beautiful, 
and  graceful,  a  musician  and  painter ;  that  is  to  say,  the 
most  pleasing  and  most  complete  creature  he  ever  had  met. 
But  when,  in  his  turn,  the  man  of  the  terrace  presented 
himself  to  the  chevalier's  gaze,  —  with  his  common  face, 


SEE-SAW.  121 

his  insignificant  figure,  and  that  indelible  appearance  of 
vulgarity  which  attaches  to  certain  individuals,  —  directly 
a  sort  of  miraculous  transition  took  place  in  the  cheva- 
lier's mind.  All  the  poetry  disappeared,  as  a  machinist's 
whistle  causes  the  disappearance  of  a  fairy  palace.  Every- 
thing was  seen  by  a  different  light;  and  D'Harmental's 
native  aristocracy  regained  the  ascendency.  Bathilde  was 
then  nothing  but  the  daughter  of  this  man ;  that  is  to 
say,  a  grisette.  Her  beauty,  her  grace,  her  elegance,  even 
her  talents,  were  but  an  accident,  an  error  of  ISfature, 
like  a  rose  flowering  on  a  cabbage-stalk.  The  chevalier 
shrugged  his  shoulders  as  he  stood  before  the  glass,  be- 
gan to  laugh,  and  to  wonder  at  the  impression  which  he 
had  received.  He  attributed  it  to  the  preoccupation  of 
his  mind,  to  the  strange  and  solitary  situation,  to  every- 
thing, in  fact,  except  its  true  cause,  —  the  sovereign  and 
irresistible  power  of  distinction  and  beauty. 

D'Harmental  therefore  went  down  to  his  hostess  in 
a  state  of  mind  rendering  him  peculiarly  susceptible  to 
the  charms  of  Mesdemoiselles  Denis. 


122  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

THE  DENIS  FAMILY. 

Madame  Denis  did  not  think  it  proper  that  two  young 
persons  as  innocent  as  her  daughters  should  breakfast 
with  a  young  man  who,  although  he  had  been  only 
three  days  in  Paris,  already  came  in  at  eleven  o'clock 
at  night,  and  played  on  the  harpsichord  till  two  in  the 
morning.  In  vain  the  Abbe  Brigaud  affirmed  that  this 
double  infraction  of  the  rules  of  her  house,  should  in  no 
degree  lower  her  opinion  of  his  pupil,  for  whom  he  could 
answer  as  for  himself.  All  he  could  obtain  was  that  the 
young  ladies  should  appear  at  the  dessert. 

But  the  chevalier  soon  perceived  that  if  their  mother 
had  ordered  them  not  to  be  seen,  she  had  not  forbidden 
them  to  be  heard ;  for  scarcely  were  they  at  table,  round 
a  veritable  devotee's  breakfast,  composed  of  a  multitude  of 
little  dishes  tempting  to  the  eye  and  delicious  to  the  pal- 
ate, when  the  sounds  of  a  spinet  were  heard,  accompa- 
nying a  voice  which  was  not  wanting  in  compass,  but 
whose  frequent  errors  of  intonation  showed  lamentable 
inexperience.  At  the  first  notes  Madame  Denis  placed 
her  hand  on  the  abbe's  arm ;  then  after  an  instant's 
silence,  during  which  she  listened  with  a  pleased  smile 
to  that  music  which  made  the  chevalier's  flesh  creep, 
"  Do  you  hear  1 "  she  said.  "  It  is  our  Athenais  who  is 
playing,   and  it  is  Emilie  who  sings." 

The  Abbe  Brigaud,  making  a  sign  with  his  head  that 
he  heard  perfectly,  trod  on  D'Harmental's  foot  under  the 


THE  DENIS  FAMILY.  123 

table,   to   hint  that  this  was  an  opportunity  for  paying 
a  compliment. 

"Madame,"  said  the  chevalier,  who  understood  this 
appeal  to  his  politeness,  "we  are  doubly  indebted  to 
you ;  for  you  offer  us  not  only  an  excellent  breakfast, 
but  a  delightful  concert." 

"Yes,"  replied  Madame  Denis,  carelessly,  "it  is  those 
children.  They  do  not  know  you  are  here,  and  they  are 
practising;  but  I  will  go  and   tell  them  to  stop." 

Madame  Denis  made  a  movement,  as  if  about  to 
rise. 

"  What,  Madame  ! "  said  D'Harmental ;  "  because  I 
come  from  the  country  do  you  believe  me  unworthy  to 
make  acquaintance  with  the  talents  of  the  capital?" 

"God  forbid,  Monsieur,  that  I  should  have  such  an 
opinion  of  you,"  said  Madame  Denis,  slyly,  "  for  I  know 
you  are  a  musician ;  the  lodger  on  the  third  story  has 
told  me  so." 

"  In  that  case,  Madame,  I  fear  he  gave  you  no  flattering 
account  of  my  skill,"  replied  the  chevalier,  laughing;  "for 
he  seemed  not  to  appreciate  the  little  I  may  possess." 

"  He  only  said  that  it  appeared  to  him  a  strange  time 
for  music.  But  listen,  Monsieur  Raoul,"  added  Madame 
Denis,  inclining  her  head  toward  the  door ;  "  the  parts 
are  changed.  Now,  my  dear  Abb£,  it  is  our  Athenais 
who  sings,  and  it  is  Emilie  who  accompanies  her  on  the 
guitar." 

It  appeared  that  Madame  Denis  had  a  weakness  for 
Athenais  ;  for  instead  of  talking,  as  she  did  when  Emilie 
was  singing,  she  listened  throughout  to  the  romance  of  her 
favorite,  her  eyes  tenderly  fixed  on  the  Abbe  Brigaud, 
who,  still  eating  and  drinking,  contented  himself  with 
nodding  his  head  in  sign  of  approbation.  Athenais  sang 
a  little  more  correctly  than  her  sister,  but  she  offset  this 


124  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

merit  by  a  defect  at  least  equivalent,  in  the  estimation  of 
the  chevalier,  —  she  had  a  voice  of  surprising  vulgarity. 

As  to  Madame  Denis,  she  beat  wrong  time  with 
her  head,  with  an  air  of  beatitude  which  did  infinitely 
more  honor  to  her  maternal  pride  than  to  her  musical 
intelligence. 

A  duet  succeeded  to  the  solos.  The  young  ladies  ap- 
peared determined  to  give  their  whole  repertoire.  D'Har- 
mental,  in  his  turn,  sought  under  the  table  for  the  abbe's 
feet,  to  crush  at  least  one  of  them  ;  but  he  only  found 
those  of  Madame  Denis,  who,  taking  this  for  a  personal 
attention,  turned  graciously  toward  him. 

"So  then,  Monsieur  Kaoul,"  she  said,  "you  come, 
young  and  inexperienced,  to  brave  all  the  dangers  of 
the  capital  % " 

"  Yes,"  said  the  Abbe  Brigaud,  taking  upon  himself  to 
answer,  for  fear  that  D'Harmental  might  not  be  able  to 
resist  answering  by  some  joke.  "You  see  in  this  young 
man,  Madame  Denis,  the  son  of  a  friend  who  was  very 
dear  to  me  "  (the  abbe  put  his  napkin  to  his  eyes),  "  and 
I  hope  that  he  will  do  credit  to  the  care  I  have  bestowed 
on  his  education  ;  for  though  he  may  not  appear  so,  my 
pupil  is  ambitious." 

"And  Monsieur  is  right,"  replied  Madame  Denis;  "  for 
with  his  talents  and  appearance,  there  is  no  saying  to 
what  he  may  attain." 

"Ah,  but,  Madame  Denis,"  said  the  Abbe  Brigaud, 
"  if  you  spoil  him  thus,  I  shall  not  bring  him  to  you  again. 
My  dear  Raoul,"  continued  the  abbe,  addressing  him  in 
a  paternal  manner,  "  I  hope  you  will  not  believe  a  word 
of  all  this."  Then,  whispering  to  Madame  Denis,  "  Such 
as  you  see  him,  he  might  have  remained  at  Sauvigny,  and 
taken  the  first  place  after  the  squire.  He  has  three  thou- 
sand francs  a  year  in  the  funds." 


THE  DENIS  FAMILY.  125 

"  That  is  exactly  what  I  intend  giving  to  each  of  my 
daughters,"  replied  Madame  Denis,  raising  her  voice  so  as 
to  be  heard  by  the  chevalier,  and  giving  a  side-glance  to 
discover  what  effect  the  announcement  of  such  munifi- 
cence  would   have   upon  him. 

Unfortunately  for  the  future  establishment  of  Mesdemoi- 
selles  Denis,  the  chevalier  was  at  that  moment  thinking 
of  quite  another  matter  than  of  uniting  the  three  thou- 
sand francs  which  this  generous  mother  gave  to  her  daugh- 
ters to  the  thousand  crowns  a  year  which  the  Abbe 
Brigaud  had  bestowed  on  him.  The  shrill  treble  of 
Mademoiselle  ^milie,  the  contralto  of  Mademoiselle  Athe'- 
nai's,  and  the  wretched  accompaniment  of  both  had  re- 
called to  his  recollection  the  pure  and  flexible  voice  and 
the  distinguished  execution  of  his  neighbor.  And  conse- 
quently, thanks  to  that  singular  power  which  a  great  pre- 
occupation gives  us  against  exterior  objects,  the  chevalier 
had  been  oblivious  to  the  discordant  sounds  proceeding 
from  the  adjoining  room,  and  taking  refuge  in  himself, 
was  following  a  sweet  melody  which  floated  in  his  mem- 
ory, and  which  protected  him,  like  an  enchanted  armor, 
from  the  sharp  sounds  which  were  flying  around  him. 

"  How  he  listens  !  "  said  Madame  Denis  to  Brigaud. 
"  'T  is  worth  while  taking  trouble  for  a  young  man  like 
that.    I  shall  have  a  bone  to  pick  with  Monsieur  Fremond." 

"  Who  is  Monsieur  Fremond  1 "  said  the  abbe,  pouring 
himself  out  something  to  drink. 

"  He  is  the  lodger  on  the  third  floor.  A  contemptible 
little  fellow  with  twelve  hundred  francs  a  year,  whose 
temper  has  caused  me  to  have  quarrels  with  every  one  in 
the  house,  and  who  came  to  complain  that  Monsieur 
Eaoul  prevented  him  and  his  dog  from  sleeping." 

"My  dear  Madame  Denis,"  replied  the  abbe,  "you 
must  not  quarrel  with  Monsieur  Fremond  for  that.     Two 


126  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

o'clock  in  the  morning  is  an  unreasonable  time ;  and  if 
my  pupil  must  sit  up  till  then,  he  must  play  in  the  day- 
time and  draw  in  the  evening." 

"  What !  Monsieur  Raoul  draws  also  ? "  cried  Madame 
Denis,  quite  astonished  at  so  much  talent. 

"  Draws  like  Mignard." 

"Oh,  my  dear  Abbe,"  said  Madame  Denis,  clasping 
her  hands,  "if  we  could  but  obtain  one  thing." 

"Whatl"  asked  the  abbe. 

"  That  he  would  take  the  portrait  of  our  Athenai's  !  " 

The  chevalier  awoke  suddenly  from  his  revery,  like  a 
traveller  who,  asleep  on  the  grass}  becomes  aware  that  a 
serpent  is  near,  and  instinctively  understands  that  a  great 
danger  threatens  him. 

"  Abbe ! "  he  cried  with  a  frightened  air,  and  glaring 
furiously  at  poor  Brigaud,  M  Abbe,  no  foolishness  ! " 

"  Oh,  what  is  the  matter  with  your  pupil  1 "  asked 
Madame  Denis,   quite  alarmed. 

Happily,  at  the  moment  when  the  abbe,  uncertain  how 
to  answer  Madame  Denis's  question,  was  seeking  a  sub- 
terfuge, the  door  opened,  and  the  two  young  ladies  en- 
tered blushing;  and  stepping  from  right  to  left,  each 
made  a  reverence  as  in  a  minuet. 

"  Well ! "  said  Madame  Denis,  affecting  an  air  of  sever- 
ity, "what  is  this?  Who  gave  you  permission  to  leave 
your  room  1" 

"  Mamma,"  replied  a  voice  which  the  chevalier  recog- 
nized by  its  shrill  tones  as  that  of  Mademoiselle  Emilie, 
"  we  beg  pardon  if  we  have  done  wrong,  and  are  willing 
to  return." 

"  But,  Mamma,"  said  another  voice,  which  the  chevalier 
concluded  must  belong  to  Mademoiselle  Athenais,  "we 
thought  that  it  was  agreed  that  we  were  to  come  in  at 


THE  DENIS  FAMILY.  127 

H  Well,  come  in,  since  you  are  here  j  it  would  be  ridicu- 
lous now  for  you  to  go  back.  Besides,"  added  Madame 
Denis,  seating  Athenais  between  herself  and  Brigaud,  and 
Emilie  between  herself  and  the  chevalier,  "  young  persons 
are  always  best  —  are  they  not,  Abbe?  —  under  their 
mother's  wing."  And  Madame  Denis  presented  to  her 
daughters  a  plate  of  bonbons,  from  which  they  helped 
themselves  with  a  modest  air  which  did  honor  to  their 
education. 

The  chevalier,  during  the  discourse  and  action  of 
Madame  Denis,   had  time  to  examine  her  daughters. 

Mademoiselle  Emilie  was  tall  and  stiff,  from  twenty- 
two  to  twenty-three  years  old,  and  was  said  to  be  very 
much  like  her  late  father,  —  an  advantage  which  did  not 
apparently  suffice  to  gain  for  her  in  the  maternal  heart  an 
affection  equal  to  that  which  Madame  Denis  entertained 
for  her  other  two  children.  Thus  poor  Emilie,  always 
afraid  of  being  scolded,  retained  a  natural  awkwardness 
which  the  repeated  lessons  of  her  dancing-master  had  not 
been  able  to  overcome. 

Mademoiselle  Athenais,  on  the  contrary,  was  small, 
plump,  and  rosy,  and  thanks  to  her  sixteen  or  seventeen 
years,  had  what  is  vulgarly  called  "the  devil's  beauty." 
She  did  not  resemble  either  Monsieur  or  Madame  Denis,  — 
a  singularity  which  had  much  exercised  the  evil  tongues 
of  the  Rue  St.  Martin  before  Madame  Denis  went  to  occupy 
the  house  which  her  husband  had  bought  in  the  Rue  du 
Temps-Perdu.  In  spite  of  this  absence  of  all  likeness  to 
her  parents,  Mademoiselle  Athenais  was  the  declared  favorite 
of  her  mother,  which  gave  her  the  assurance  that  poor 
Emilie  wanted.  Athenais,  however,  it  must  be  said, 
always  profited  by  this  favor  to  excuse  the  pretended 
faults  of  her  elder  sister.  The  chevalier,  who  as  an  artist 
was  a  student  of  faces,  thought  he  discovered  at  the  first 


128  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

glance,  between  the  face  of  Athena'is  and  that  of  Abbe* 
Brigaud,  certain  lines  of  resemblance,  which,  joined  to  a 
singular  correspondence  of  figure,  might  have  guided  a 
curious  investigator  to  a  discovery  of  the  paternity  sought, 
if  such  investigation  were  not  wisely  prohibited  by  our  laws. 

Although  it  was  scarcely  eleven  o'clock  in  the  morning, 
the  two  sisters  were  dressed  as  if  for  a  ball,  and  carried 
all  the  trinkets  they  possessed  on  their  necks,  arms,  and 
ears. 

This  sight,  so  conformable  to  the  idea  which  D'Har- 
mental  had  formed  beforehand  of  the  daughters  of  his 
landlady,  gave  him  a  new  subject  for  reflection.  Since 
the  Demoiselles  Denis  were  so  exactly  what  they  ought  to 
be,  —  that  is  to  say,  in  such  complete  harmony  with  their 
position  and  education,  —  why  was  Bathilde,  who  seemed 
hardly  equal  to  them  in  rank,  as  visibly  distinguished  as 
they  were  vulgar?  Whence  came  this  immense  physical 
and  moral  difference  between  girls  of  the  same  class  and 
age  1  There  must  be  some  secret  underlying  that,  which 
the  chevalier  would  no  doubt  know  some  day  or  other. 

A  second  pressure  of  the  Abbe  Brigaud's  foot  against 
that  of  D'Harmental  made  him  understand  that  however 
just  his  reflections  were,  he  had  chosen  a  bad  moment  for 
abandoning  himself  to  them.  Indeed,  Madame  Denis 
assumed  so  significant  an  air  of  dignity  that  D'Harmental 
saw  that  he  had  not  an  instant  to  lose  if  he  wished  to 
efface  from  her  mind  the  bad  impression  which  his  dis- 
traction had  caused. 

"Madame,"  said  he,  immediately,  with  the  most  gracious 
air  he  could  assume,  "  that  which  I  already  see  of  your 
family  fills  me  with  the  most  lively  desire  to  become  more 
completely  acquainted  with  it.  Is  not  your  son  at  home, 
and  shall  I  not  have  the  pleasure  of  being  presented  to 
him?" 


THE  DENIS  FAMILY.  129 

"Monsieur,"  answered  Madame  Denis,  to  whom  so 
amiable  an  address  had  restored  all  her  good-humor, 
"my  son  is  with  Maitre  Joulu,  his  master;  and  unless 
his  business  brings  him  this  way,  it  is  improbable  that 
he  will  have  this  morning  the  honor  of  making  your 
acquaintance." 

"Parhleu!  my  dear  pupil,"  said  the  Abbe  Brigaud, 
extending  his  hand  toward  the  door,  "  you  are  like  the 
late  Aladdin.  It  is  enough  for  you  to  express  a  wish, 
and  it  is  fulfilled." 

Indeed,  at  this  moment  they  heard  on  the  staircase 
the  song  about  Marlborough,  which  at  this  time  had  all 
the  charm  of  novelty ;  the  door  was  thrown  open,  and 
gave  entrance  to  a  boy  with  a  laughing  face,  who  much 
resembled  Mademoiselle  Athenai's. 

"  Good,  good,  good  !  "  said  the  new-comer,  crossing  his 
arms,  and  remarking  the  ordinary  number  of  his  family 
increased  by  the  abbe  and  the  chevalier.  "  Not  bad, 
Madame  Denis;  she  sends  Boniface  to  his  office  with  a 
bit  of  bread  and  cheese,  saying,  '  Beware  of  indigestion,* 
and  in  his  absence  she  gives  receptions  and  breakfasts. 
Luckily,  poor  Boniface  has  a  good  nose.  He  comes 
through  the  Eue  Montmartre ;  he  snuffs  the  wind,  and 
says,  •  What  is  going  on  there  at  No.  5  Rue  du  Temps- 
Perdu  V  So  he  came,  and  here  he  is.  Make  a  place  for 
one."  And  joining  action  to  the  word,  Boniface  drew  a 
chair  to  the  table,  and  sat  down  between  the  abbe*  and 
the  chevalier. 

"Monsieur  Boniface,"  said  Madame  Denis,  trying  to 
assume  a  severe  air,  "do  you  not  see  that  there  are 
strangers  here1?" 

"  Strangers  ! "  said  Boniface,  taking  a  dish  on  the  table, 
and  setting  it  before  himself;  "and  where  are  these 
strangers'?     Are  you  one,  Papa  Brigaud?     Are  you  one, 


130  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

Monsieur  Raoul?  You  are  not  a  stranger;  you  are  a 
lodger."  And  taking  a  knife  and  fork,  he  set  to  work 
in  a  manner  to  make  up  for  lost  time. 

"  Pardieu  !  Madame,"  said  the  chevalier,  "  I  see  with 
pleasure  that  I  am  further  advanced  than  I  thought  I 
was.  I  did  not  know  that  I  had  the  honor  of  being 
known  to  Monsieur  Boniface." 

"  It  would  be  odd  if  I  did  not  know  you,"  said  the 
lawyer's  clerk,  with  his  mouth  full;  "you  have  my 
bedroom." 

"  What,  Madame  Denis  !  "  said  D'Harmental,  "  you 
left  me  in  ignorance  that  I  had  the  honor  to  succeed  in 
my  room  to  the  heir-apparent  of  your  family.  I  am  no 
longer  astonished  at  finding  my  room  so  gayly  fitted  up ; 
I  recognize  the  cares  of  a  mother." 

"  Yes,  much  good  may  it  do  you ;  but  I  have  one  bit 
of  advice  to  give  you.  Don't  look  out  of  the  window 
too  much." 

"  Why  % "  asked  D'Harmental. 

"  Why  1  because  you  have  a  certain  neighbor  opposite 
you  —  " 

"Mademoiselle  Bathilde,"  said  the  chevalier,  carried 
away  by  bis  first  impulse. 

"  Ah  !  you  know  that  already  %  "  answered  Boniface  ; 
"  good,  good,  good  !  that  will  do  !  " 

"  Will  you  be  quiet,  Monsieur  !  "  cried  Madame  Denis. 

"Listen  !  "  answered  Boniface;  "one  must  inform  one's 
lodgers  when  one  has  prohibited  things  about  one's  house. 
You  are  not  in  a  lawyer's  office;  you  do  not  know 
that." 

"  The  child  is  full  of  wit,"  said  the  Abbe  Brigaud,  in 
that  bantering  tone  which  made  it  impossible  to  know 
whether  he  was  serious  or  not. 

"  But,"  answered  Madame  Denis,  "  what  do  you  pretend 


THE  DENIS  FAMILY.  131 

there  is  in  common  between  Monsieur  Raoul  and  Ma- 
demoiselle Bathilde  'I " 

"What  in  common"?  Why,  in  a  week  he  will  be  madly 
in  love  with  her,  or  he  is  not  a  man;  and  it  is  not  worth 
while  to  love  a  coquette." 

"  A  coquette  1 "  said  D'Harmental. 

"  Yes,  a  coquette,  —  a  coquette,"  said  Boniface ;  "  I  have 
said  it,  and  I  do  not  draw  back.  A  coquette,  who  flirts 
with  the  young  men  and  lives  with  an  old  one,  without 
counting  that  little  brute  of  a  Mirza,  who  ate  up  all  my 
bonbons,  and  now,  whenever  she  sees  me,  wants  to  bite 
my  calves." 

"  Leave  the  room,  Mesdemoiselles,"  cried  Madame  Denis, 
rising  and  making  her  daughters  rise  also.  "Leave  the 
room.  Ears  so  pure  as  yours  ought  not  to  hear  such 
things."  And  she  pushed  Mademoiselle  Athenais  and 
Mademoiselle  Emilie  toward  the  door  of  their  room,  and 
went  out  with  them. 

As  to  D'Harmental,  he  felt  a  violent  desire  to  break 
Boniface's  head  with  a  wine-bottle.  Nevertheless,  seeing 
the  absurdity  of  the  situation,  he  made  an  effort  and  re- 
strained himself.  "But,"  said  he,  "I  thought  that  the 
bourgeois  whom  I  saw  on  the  terrace,  —  for  no  doubt  it  is 
of  him  that  you  speak,  Monsieur  Boniface  —  " 

"Of  himself,  the  old  rascal;  what  did  you  think  of 
him?" 

"  That  he  was  her  father." 

"Her  father!  not  quite.  Mademoiselle  Bathilde  has 
no  father." 

"  Then  at  least  her  uncle  ?  " 

"  Her  uncle  after  the  Bretagne  fashion,  perhaps,  but  in 
no  other  manner." 

"  Monsieur,"  said  Madame  Denis,  majestically,  coming 
out  of  the  room  to  the  most  distant  part  of  which  she  had 


132 

doubtless  consigned  her  daughters,  "  I  have  asked  you 
once  for  all  not  to  talk  improprieties  before  your  sisters." 

"Ah,  yes,"  said  Boniface,  "my  sisters;  do  you  believe 
that  at  their  age  they  cannot  understand  what  I  said,  — 
particularly  ]£milie,  who  is  twenty-three  years  old  1 " 

"Emilie  is  as  innocent  as  a  new-born  child,"  said 
Madame  Denis,  seating  herself  between  Brigaud  and 
D'Harmental. 

"  I  should  advise  you  not  to  reckon  on  that.  I  found 
a  pretty  romance  for  Lent  in  our  innocent's  room.  I  will 
show  it  to  you,  Pere  Brigaud ;  you  are  her  confessor,  and 
we  shall  see  if  you  gave  her  permission  to  read  her  prayers 
from  it." 

"  Hold  your  tongue,  mischief-maker ! "  said  the  abbe" ; 
"  do  you  not  see  how  you  are  grieving  your  mother?" 

Indeed,  Madame  Denis,  suffocating  with  shame  that 
such  a  stigma  should  be  attached  to  her  daughter's  repu- 
tation in  the  presence  of  a  young  man  on  whom,  with  a 
mother's  foresight,  she  had  already  begun  to  cast  an  eye, 
was  nearly  fainting.  There  is  nothing  in  which  men  be- 
lieve less  than  in  women's  faintings,  and  yet  there  is 
nothing  to  which  they  give  way  more  easily.  Whether 
he  believed  in  it  or  not,  D'Harmental  was  too  polite  not 
to  show  his  hostess  some  attention  in  such  circumstances. 
He  advanced  toward  her  with  his  arms  extended.  Madame 
Denis  no  sooner  saw  this  support  offered  to  her  than  she 
let  herself  fall,  and  throwing  her  head  back,  fainted  in  the 
chevalier's  arms. 

"  Abbe,"  said  D'Harmental,  while  Boniface  profited  by 
the  circumstance  to  fill  his  pockets  with  all  the  bonbons 
left  on  the  table,  "  bring  a  chair." 

The  abbe  pushed  forward  a  chair  with  the  nonchalance 
of  a  man  accustomed  to  such  incidents,  and  quite  uncon- 
cerned as  to  their  consequences. 


THE  DENIS   FAMILY.  133 

They  seated  Madame  Denis,  and  D'Harmental  gave  her 
some  salts  to  inhale,  while  the  Abbe  Brigaud  tapped  softly 
the  palms  of  her  hands.  But  in  spite  of  these  cares 
Madame  Denis  did  not  appear  disposed  to  return  to  her- 
self. Suddenly,  however,  when  they  least  expected  it, 
she  started  to  her  feet  as  if  moved  by  a  spring,  and  gave 
a  loud  cry. 

D'Harmental  thought  that  a  fit  of  hysterics  was  fol- 
lowing the  fainting.  He  was  truly  frightened,  there 
was  such  an  accent  of  reality  in  the  scream  that  the 
poor  woman  gave. 

"It  is  nothing,"  said  Boniface;  "I  have  only  emptied 
the  water-bottle  down  her  back.  That  is  what  brought 
her  to ;  you  see  she  did  n't  know  how  to  manage  her 
coming  back  to  her  senses.  Well,  what  ? "  continued  the 
pitiless  fellow,  seeing  Madame  Denis  look  angrily  at  him ; 
"  it  is  I.  Do  you  not  recognize  me,  Mother  Denis  2  It  is 
your  little  Boniface,  who  loves  you  so." 

"Madame,"  said  D'Harmental,  much  embarrassed  at  the 
situation,  "I  am  truly  distressed  at  what  has  occurred." 

"Oh,  Monsieur,"  cried  Madame  Denis,  weeping,  "I 
am  indeed  unfortunate." 

"Come,  come;  do  not  cry,  Mother  Denis,  you  are 
already  wet  enough,"  said  Boniface.  "You  had  better 
go  and  change  your  linen;  there  is  nothing  so  bad  for 
the  health  as  wet   clothes." 

"The  child  is  full  of  sense,"  said  Brigaud;  "and  I 
think  you  had  better  follow  his  advice." 

"  If  I  might  join  my  entreaties  to  those  of  the  abbe," 
said  D'Harmental,  "I  should  beg  you,  Madame,  not  to 
inconvenience  yourself  for  us.  Besides,  we  were  about 
to  take  leave  of  you." 

"And  you,  also,  Abbe?"  said  Madame  Denis,  with 
a  distressed  look  at  Brigaud. 


134  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

•  "  As  for  me,"  said  Brigaud,  who  did  not  seem  to  fancy 
the  part  of  comforter,  "  I  am  expected  at  the  Hotel  Col- 
bert, and  I  must  leave  you." 

"  Adieu,  then,"  said  Madame  Denis,  making  a  reverence, 
the  dignity  of  which  was  somewhat  impaired  by  the 
water  trickling  down  her  back. 

"Adieu,  Mother,"  said  Boniface,  throwing  his  arms 
round  her  neck  with  the  assurance  of  a  spoiled  child. 
"  Have  you  nothing  to  say  to   Maitre  Joulu  % " 

"  Adieu,  you  rogue,"  replied  the  poor  woman,  embrac- 
ing her  son,  —  half  smiling  already,  and  still  half  angry, 
but  yielding  to  that  attraction  which  a  mother  cannot 
resist,  —  "  adieu,  and  be  steady." 

"  As  an  image,  Mother  Denis,  but  on  condition  that 
you  will  give  us  a  nice  little  dish  of  sweets  for  dinner." 
And  the  third  clerk  of  Maitre  Joulu  went  out,  dancing, 
to  join  the  Abbe  Brigaud  and  D'Harmental,  who  were 
already   on  the  landing. 

"  Well,  well,"  said  the  abbe,  lifting  his  hand  quickly  to 
his  waistcoat  pocket,  "  what  are  you  doing  there  1 " 

"  Don't  worry,  Papa  Brigaud ;  I  am  only  trying  to  dis- 
cover whether  there  is  not  a  crown  in  your  pocket  for 
your  friend  Boniface." 

"  Here,"  said  the  abbe,  —  "  here  is  one ;  and  now  leave 
us  alone." 

"  Papa  Brigaud,"  said  Boniface,  in  the  effusion  of  his 
gratitude,  "  you  have  the  heart  of  a  cardinal ;  and  if  the 
king  makes  you  only  an  archbishop,  on  my  honor  you 
will  be  cheated  of  half  your  dues.  Adieu,  Monsieur 
Baoul,"  he  continued,  addressing  the  chevalier  as  famil- 
iarly as  if  he  had  known  him  for  years.  "  I  repeat, 
be  careful  about  Mademoiselle  Bathilde  if  you  wish  to 
keep  your  heart,  and  give  some  sweetmeats  to  Mirza  if 
you   have   any  regard   for  your  legs ; "    and   holding   by 


THE  DENIS  FAMILY.  135 

the  baluster,  he  cleared  the  first  flight  of  twelve  steps  at 
one  bound,  and  reached  the  street  door  without  having 
touched  a  stair. 

Brigaud  descended  more  quietly  behind  him,  after  ap- 
pointing a  meeting  with  the  chevalier  at  eight  o'clock 
in  the  evening. 

As  to  D'Harmental,  he  went  back  thoughtfully  to 
his  attic. 


(b 


LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

THE   CRIMSON    RIBBON. 

What  occupied  the  mind  of  the  chevalier  was  neither  the 
approaching  denouement  of  the  drama  in  which  he  had 
chosen  so  important  a  part,  nor  the  admirable  prudence  of 
the  Abbe  Brigaud  in  placing  him  in  a  house  which  he 
habitually  visited  almost  daily,  so  that  his  visits,  however 
frequent,  could  not  excite  remark.  It  was  not  the  majes- 
tic diction  of  Madame  Denis,  nor  the  soprano  of  Mademoi- 
selle 6milie:,  nor  the  contralto  of  Mademoiselle  Athenais, 
nor  the  tricks  of  Monsieur  Boniface.  It  was  simply  poor 
Bathilde,  whom  he  had  heard  so  lightly  mentioned  ;  but 
our  reader  would  be  mistaken  if  he  supposed  that  Mon- 
sieur Boniface's  brutal  accusation  had  in  the  least  degree 
altered  the  sentiments  of  the  chevalier  for  the  young  girl. 
Its  first  effect  had  indeed  been  a  painful  impression,  a 
sentiment  of  disgust ;  but  an  instant's  reflection  showed 
him  that  such  an  alliance  as  that  imputed  to  her  was 
impossible. 

Chance  may  give  a  charming  daughter  to  an  undistin- 
guished father ;  necessity  may  unite  a  young  and  elegant 
woman  to  an  old  and  vulgar  husband  ;  but  a  liaison,  such 
as  that  attributed  to  the  young  girl  and  the  bourgeois  of 
the  terrace,  can  result  only  from  love  or  interest.  Now 
between  these  two,  so  different  in  all  respects,  there  could 
be  no  love;  and  as  to  interest,  the  thing  was  still  less 
probable,  for  if  they  were  not  in  absolute  poverty,  their 
situation  was  certainly  not  above  mediocrity,  —  not  that 


THE  CRIMSON   RIBBON.  137 

gilded  mediocrity  of  which  Horace  speaks,  with  a  country 
house  at  Tibur  or  at  Montmorency,  and  which  enjoys 
a  pension  of  thirty  thousand  sestercia  from  the  Augustan 
treasury,  or  a  government  annuity  of  six  thousand  francs, 
but  that  poor  and  miserable  mediocrity  in  which  provision 
is  made  only  from  hand  to  mouth,  and  which  is  prevented 
from  becoming  real  poverty  only  by  incessant  labor  night 
and  day. 

The  only  conclusion  D'Harmental  could  derive  from 
these  reflections  was  the  certainty  that  Bathilde  was 
neither  the  daughter,  wife,  nor  mistress  of  this  terrible 
neighbor,  the  sight  of  whom  had  sufficed  to  produce  such 
a  strange  reaction  on  the  growing  love  of  the  chevalier. 
And  therefore,  if  she  stood  to  him  in  no  one  of  these  three 
relations,  there  must  be  some  mystery  about  her  birth  ; 
and  if  so,  Bathilde  was  not  what  she  appeared  to  be. 
This'  supposition  would  explain  everything.  That  aristo- 
cratic beauty,  that  charming  grace,  and  that  accomplished 
education  were  no  longer  an  enigma  without  a  key.  Ba- 
thilde was  above  the  position  which  she  was  temporarily 
forced  to  occupy;  there  had  been  in  the  deetiny  of  this 
young  girl  one  of  those  overthrows  of  fortune  which  are 
for  individuals  what  earthquakes  are  for  towns,  and  she 
had  been  forced  to  descend  to  the  inferior  sphere  in  which 
he  found  her.  She  was  like  those  fallen  angels  who  are 
compelled  for  a  certain  time  to  live  among  men,  while 
awaiting  the  day  when  God  will  restore  to  them  the 
wings  on  which  they  will  mount  to  heaven. 

The  result  of  all  this  was  that  the  chevalier,  without 
loss  of  self-respect,  might  allow  himself  to  love  Bathilde. 
When  a  man's  heart  is  at  war  with  his  pride,  it  seldom 
wants  excuses  to  defeat  its  haughty  enemy.  Bathilde 
had  now  neither  name  nor  family,  and  nothing  prevented 
the  imagination  of  the  man  who  loved  her  from  raising 


138  LE  CHEVALIER   D'HARMENTAL. 

her  to  a  height  of  which  she  would  not  have  dared  to 
dream. 

Consequently,  far  from  following  the  advice  which 
Monsieur  Boniface  had  so  kindly  given  him,  the  first 
thing  D'Harmental  did  on  returning  to  his  room  was  to 
go  to  his  window  and  inspect  that  of  his  neighbor.  It 
was  wide  open.  If  a  week  before  any  one  had  told  the 
chevalier  that  'such  a  simple  thing  as  an  open  window 
would  have  made  his  heart  beat,  he  would  have  laughed 
at  the  idea.  However,  so  it  was.  And  after  drawing 
a  long  breath,  he  settled  himself  in  a  corner,  to  watch 
at  his  ease  the  young  girl  in  the  opposite  room,  with- 
out being  seen  by  her;  for  he  was  afraid  of  frightening 
her  by  an  attention  which  she  could  attribute  only  to 
curiosity. 

Very  soon,  however,  D'Harmental  perceived  that  the 
room  was  unoccupied ;  for  the  active  and  industrious 
young  girl  would  certainly  have  passed  many  times  before 
his  eyes  if  she  had  not  been  absent.  He  therefore  opened 
his  window,  and  at  the  noise  he  made  in  doing  so,  he  saw 
the  elegant  head  of  the  greyhound,  which,  with  her  ears 
always  on  the  watch,  well  worthy  of  the  trust  that  her 
mistress  had  reposed  in  her  in  making  her  guardian  of 
the  house,  was  awake,  and  looking  to  see  who  it  was 
that  thus  disturbed  her  sleep. 

Thanks  to  the  indiscreet  counter-tenor  of  the  good  man 
of  the  terrace,  and  the  malice  of  Monsieur  Boniface,  the 
chevalier  already  knew  two  things  very  important  to 
know;  namely,  that  his  neighbor  was  called  Bathilde, 
—  a  sweet  and  euphonious  appellation,  suitable  to  a 
young,  beautiful,  and  graceful  girl,  —  and  that  the  grey- 
hound was  called  Mirza,  a  name  which  seemed  to  indi- 
cate a  no  less  distinguished  rank  in  the  canine  aristocracy. 
Now,  as  nothing  is  to  be  disdained  when  we  wish  to  con- 


THE  CRIMSON  RIBBON.  139 

qner  a  fortress,  and  the  smallest  intelligence  from  within 
is  often  more  efficacious  than  the  most  terrible  machines 
of  war,  D'Harmental  resolved  to  begin  by  opening  com- 
munications with  the  greyhound;  and  with  the  most 
caressing  tone  he  could  give  to  his  voice,  he  called, 
"  Mirza ! "  Mirza,  who  was  indolently  lying  on  the 
cushion,  raised  her  head  quickly,  with  an  unmistakable 
expression  of  astonishment.  Indeed,  it  must  have  ap- 
peared strange  to  the  intelligent  little  animal  that  a  man 
so  unknown  to  her  as  the  chevalier  should  address  her  by 
her  Christian  name.  She  contented  herself  with  fixing 
on  him  her  uneasy  eyes,  —  which,  in  the  half-light 
where  she  was  placed,  sparkled  like  two  carbuncles, — 
and  uttering  a  little  dull  sound  which  might  pass  for  a 
growl. 

D'Harmental  remembered  that  the  Marquis  d'Uxelles 
had  tamed  the  spaniel  of  Mademoiselle  Choin,  which  was 
a  much  more  peevish  beast  than  any  greyhound  in  the 
world,  with  roast  rabbit's  heads  ;  and  that  he  had  received 
for  this  delicate  attention  the  baton  of  Marechal  de  France. 
He  did  not  despair  of  being  able  to  soften  by  the  same 
kind  of  attention  the  surly  reception  which  Mademoiselle 
Mirza  had  given  to  his  advances,  and  he  directed  his  steps 
toward  the  sugar-basin ;  then  he  returned  to  the  window, 
armed  with  two  pieces  of  sugar,  large  enough  to  be  divided 
ad  infinitum. 

The  chevalier  was  not  mistaken.  When  the  first  piece 
of  sugar  fell  near  her,  Mirza  advanced  her  head  indiffer- 
ently ;  then,  being  by  the  aid  of  smell  made  aware  of  the 
nature  of  the  temptation  offered  to  her,  she  extended  her 
paw  toward  it,  drew  it  toward  her,  took  it  in  her  teeth, 
and  began  to  eat  it  with  that  languid  air  peculiar  to  the 
race  to  which  she  belonged.  This  operation  finished,  she 
passed  over  her  lips  a  little  red  tongue,  which  showed 


140  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

that  in  spite  of  her  apparent  indifference,  which  was 
owing,  no  doubt,  to  her  excellent  education,  she  was  not 
insensible  to  the  surprise  her  neighbor  had  contrived  for 
her.  Instead  of  lying  down  again  on  the  cushion,  she  re- 
mained seated,  yawning  languidly,  but  wagging  her  tail, 
to  show  that  she  would  wake  entirely  after  two  or  three 
such  little  attentions  as  had  just  been  paid  to  her. 

D'Harmental,  who  was  well  acquainted  with  the  habits 
of  the  pet  dogs  belonging  to  the  pretty  women  of  the  day, 
understood  the  amiable  intentions  of  Mirza,  and  not  wish- 
ing to  give  her  time  to  change  her  mind,  threw  a  second 
piece  of  sugar,  taking  care  this  time  that  it  should  fall  at 
such  a  distance  as  to  oblige  her  to  leave  her  cushion  to 
get  it.  This  test  would  decide  whether  she  was  most 
inclined  to  laziness  or  greediness.  Mirza  remained  an 
instant  uncertain ;  then  greediness  carried  the  day,  and 
she  went  across  the  room  to  get  the  piece  of  sugar,  which 
had  rolled  under  the  harpsichord.  At  this  moment  a 
third  piece  fell  near  the  window,  and  Mirza,  still  obedient 
to  the  laws  of  attraction,  proceeded  from  the  second  to  the 
third,  as  she  had  proceeded  from  the  first  to  the  second. 
But  there  the  liberality  of  the  chevalier  stopped;  he 
thought  that  he  had  now  given  enough  to  entitle  him  to 
expect  some  return,  and  he  contented  himself  with  call- 
ing Mirza  in  a  more  imperative  tone  than  before,  and 
showing  her  the  other  pieces  of  sugar  which  he  held  in 
his  hand. 

Mirza  this  time,  instead  of  looking  at  the  chevalier 
with  uneasiness  or  disdain,  rested  her  paws  on  the 
window-sill,  and  began  to  behave  as  she  would  to  an 
old  acquaintance.      It  was   finished ;   Mirza  was  tamed. 

The  chevalier  now  in  his  turn  began  to  treat  Mirza 
with  disdain,  and  to  speak  to  her,  in  order  to  accustom 
her  to  his  voice.     Meanwhile,  fearing  a  return  of  pride  on 


THE  CRIMSON  RIBBON.  141 

the  part  of  his  interlocutor,  who  sustained  her  part  in  the 
dialogue  by  little  whines  and  subdued  barking,  he  threw 
her  a  fourth  piece  of  sugar,  which  she  seized  with  greater 
avidity  for  having  been  kept  waiting.  This  time,  without 
being  called,  she  came  back  to  her  place  at  the  window. 
The  chevalier's  triumph  was  complete,  —  so  complete  that 
Mirza,  who  the  day  before  had  given  signs  of  so  superior 
an  intelligence  in  discovering  Bathilde's  return,  and  in 
running  to  the  door  as  she  ascended  the  staircase,  this 
time  discovered  neither  the  one  nor  the  other,  so  that  her 
mistress,  entering  suddenly,  surprised  her  in  the  midst  of 
these  coquetries  with  her  neighbor.  It  is  but  just  to  say, 
however,  that  at  the  noise  the  door  made  in  opening, 
Mirza  turned,  and  recognizing  Bathilde,  bounded  toward 
her,  and  lavished  on  her  the  most  tender  caresses  ;  but  we 
must  add,  to  the  shame  of  the  species,  that  this  duty  once 
accomplished,  she  hastened  back  to  the  wTindow.  This 
unusual  action  on  the  part  of  the  dog  naturally  guided 
Bathilde's  eyes  toward  the  cause  which  occasioned  it. 
Her  eyes  met  those  of  the  chevalier.  Bathilde  blushed ; 
the  chevalier  bowed ;  and  Bathilde,  without  knowing 
what   she   was   doing,    returned   the   salute. 

The  young  girl's  first  impulse  was  to  go  and  close  the 
window,  but  an  instinctive  feeling  restrained  her.  She 
understood  that  this  would  be  giving  importance  to  a 
thing  which  had  none,  and  that  to  put  herself  on  the 
defensive  would  be  an  avowal  that  she  thought  herself 
attacked.  She  therefore  crossed  the  room  without  affecta- 
tion, and  disappeared  in  that  part  of  her  chamber  which 
her  neighbor's  glance  could  not  reach.  Then,  at  the  end 
of  a  few  minutes,  when  she  ventured  to  return,  she  found 
that  he  had  closed  his  window.  Bathilde  understood  that 
there  was  discretion  in  this  action,  and  she  appreciated  it. 

Indeed,  the  chevalier  had  just  made  a  master-stroke. 


142  LE  CHEVALIER   D'HARMENTAL. 

While  his  acquaintance  with  his  neighbor  was  so  little 
advanced,  it  was  impossible  that  both  windows  should 
remain  open  at  once.  If  the  chevalier's  window  was 
open,  his  neighbor's  must  be  shut;  and  he  knew  that 
when  that  was  closed  there  was  not  a  chance  of  seeing 
even  the  tip  of  Mirza's  nose  behind  the  curtain ;  while 
if,  on  the  contrary,  his  window  was  closed,  hers  might 
possibly  remain  open,  and  he  could  watch  her  passing  to 
and  fro,  or  working,  which  was  a  great  amusement  for  a 
poor  devil  condemned  to  absolute  seclusion.  Besides,  he 
had  made  an  immense  step,  —  he  had  saluted  Bathilde, 
and  she  had  returned  his  salute.  They  were  no  longer 
strangers  to  each  other ;  but  in  order  that  their  acquaint- 
ance might  advance,  he  must  be  careful  not  to  be  too 
brusque.  To  risk  speaking  to  her  after  the  salute 
would  have  been  risking  too  much;  it  was  better  to 
allow  Bathilde  to  believe  that  it  was  all  the  effect 
of  chance. 

Bathilde  did  not  believe  it,  but  she  appeared  to  do  so. 
The  result  was  that  she  left  her  window  open,  and  seeing 
her  neighbor's  closed,  sat  down  by  her  own  with  a  book  in 
her  hand.  As  to  Mirza,  she  jumped  upon  the  stool  at  her 
mistress's  feet,  but  instead  of  resting  her  head  as  usual  on 
the  knees  of  the  young  girl,  she  placed  it  on  the  sill  of 
the  window,  so  much  was  she  occupied  with  the  generous 
unknown. 

The  chevalier  seated  himself  in  the  middle  of  his  room, 
took  his  crayons,  and  thanks  to  a  corner  of  his  curtain 
skilfully  raised,  he  sketched  the  delicious  picture  before 
him.  Unfortunately  the  days  were  short,  and  toward 
three  o'clock  the  little  light  which  the  clouds  and  rain 
had  permitted  to  descend  to  the  earth  began  to  decline, 
and  Bathilde  closed  her  window.  Nevertheless,  even  in 
this  short  time  the  chevalier  had  finished  the  young  girl's 


THE  CRIMSON  RIBBON.  143 

head,  and  the  likeness  was  perfect.  There  was  her  wav- 
ing hair,  her  fine  transparent  skin,  the  graceful  curve  of 
her  swan-like  neck,  —  in  fact,  all  to  which  art  can  attain 
with  one  of  those  inimitable  models  which  are  the  despair 
of  artists. 

When  night  closed  in,  the  Abbe  Brigaud  arrived.  The 
chevalier  and  he  wrapped  themselves  in  their  cloaks,  and 
went  toward  the  Palais  Koyal ;  their  purpose  was,  it  will 
be  remembered,  to  examine  the  locality. 

The  house  in  which  Madame  de  Sabran  lived,  since  her 
husband  had  been  named  maitre  d'kotel  to  the  regent,  was 
No.  22,  between  the  Hotel  de  la  Roche-Guyon  and  the 
passage  formerly  called  Passage  du  Palais  Royal,  because 
it  was  the  only  one  leading  from  the  Rue  des  Bons-Enfans 
to  the  Rue  de  Valois.  This  passage,  now  called  Passage 
du  Lycee,  was  closed  at  the  same  time  as  the  other  gates 
of  the  garden, —  that  is  to  say,  at  eleven  o'clock  in  the 
evening;  therefore,  having  once  entered  a  house  in  the 
Rue  des  Bons-Enfans,  unless  it  had  a  second  door  opening 
on  the  Rue  de  Valois,  no  one  could  return  to  the  Palais 
Royal  after  eleven  o'clock  without  making  the  round 
either  by  the  Rue  Neuve-des-Petits-Champs  or  by  the 
Cour  des  Fontaines. 

Thus  it  was  with  Madame  de  Sabran's  house  ;  it  was  an 
exquisite  little  hotel,  built  toward  the  end  of  the  last  cen- 
tury, —  that  is  to  say,  about  twenty-five  years  before  the 
time  of  the  events  here  described,  —  by  a  merchant  who 
wished  to  ape  the  great  lords  and  have  a  petite  maison  of 
his  own.  It  consisted  of  a  ground-floor  and  a  first  story, 
surmounted  by  a  stone  gallery,  on  which  opened  the  ser- 
vants' attic-rooms,  and  was  covered  by  a  tile  roof,  low  and 
but  slightly  inclined.  Under  the  first-floor  windows  was 
a  large  balcony  which  jutted  out  three  or  four  feet,  and 
extended  the  entire  length  of  the  house ;  but  some  orna- 


144  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

ments  constructed  of  iron,  as  was  the  balcony,  and  which 
reached  to  the  terrace,  separated  the  two  windows  on  each 
corner  from  the  three  in  the  middle,  —  an  arrangement 
quite  common  with  houses  where  it  is  desired  to  inter- 
rupt exterior  communications.  The  two  facades  were 
exactly  similar,  only  as  the  Rue  de  Valois  was  eight  or 
ten  feet  lower  than  that  of  the  Bons-Enfans,  the  ground- 
floor  windows  and  door  on  that  side  opened  on  a  ter- 
race, where  was  a  little  garden,  which  in  spring  was 
tilled  with  charming  flowers.  This  terrace,  however,  did 
not  communicate  with  the  street,  —  the  only  entrance 
being,  as  we  have  said,  in  the  Rue  des  Bons-Enfans. 

This  was  all  our  conspirators  could  wish  ;  the  regent, 
once  entered  into  Madame  de  Sabran's  house,  —  provided 
he  went  thither  on  foot,  as  was  possible,  and  stayed  after 
eleven  o'clock,  as  was  probable,  —  would  be  caught  in  a 
trap,  since  it  would  be  absolutely  necessary  for  him  to 
depart  by  the  way  in  which  he  entered  ;  and  nothing 
would  be  easier  than  to  carry  out  an  enterprise  of  this  kind 
in  the  Rue  des  Bons-Enfans,  —  one  of  the  most  deserted 
and  gloomy  places  in  the  neighborhood.  Moreover,  as 
this  street  was  surrounded  by  houses  of  a  doubtful  charac- 
ter, and  frequented  by  very  bad  company,  it  was  a  hun- 
dred to  one  that  but  little  attention  would  be  given  there 
to  outcries,  which  were  too  frequent  in  that  street  to 
cause  alarm,  and  that  if  the  police  should  arrive,  it  would 
be,  according  to  the  custom  of  that  estimable  force,  long 
after  their  intervention  could  be  of  any  avail. 

The  inspection  of  the  ground  finished,  the  plans  laid, 
and  the  number  of  the  house  taken,  D'Harmental  and  the 
Abbe  Brigaud  separated,  —  the  abbe  to  go  to  the  Arsenal 
to  give  Madame  du  Maine  an  account  of  the  proceedings, 
and  D'Harmental  to  return  to  his  attic. 

As  on  the  preceding  night,  Bathilde's  room  was  lighted. 


THE  CRIMSON  RIBBON.  145 

This  time,  however,  the  young  girl  was  not  drawing,  hut 
was  occupied  with  needlework.  Her  light  was  not  put 
out  till  one  o'clock  in  the  morning.  As  to  the  good  man 
of  the  terrace,  he  had  retired  long  before  D'Harmental 
returned. 

The  chevalier  slept  badly.  One  does  not  find  himself 
between  a  love  affair  at  its  beginning  and  a  conspiracy  at 
its  culmination,  without  experiencing  certain  sensations 
till  then  unknown,  and  not  very  favorable  to  sleep.  But 
toward  morning  fatigue  prevailed,  and  he  awoke  only  on 
feeling  himself  violently  shaken  by  the  arm.  Without 
doubt  the  chevalier  was  at  that  moment  in  some  bad 
dream,  of  which  this  seemed  to  be  the  crisis ;  for,  still 
half  asleep,  he  stretched  out  his  hand  toward  the  pistols 
which  were  on  the  table. 

"Ah,  ah!  "  cried  the  abbe,  "an  instant,  young  man. 
What  a  hurry  you  are  in  !  Open  your  eyes  wide,  —  so  ! 
Do  you  not  recognize  me  1 " 

"Ah,"  said  D'Harmental,  laughing,  "it  is  you,  Abbe. 
You  did  well  to  stop  me  ;  I  dreamed  that  I  was  arrested." 

"A  good  sign,"  said  the  Abbe  Brigaud.  "You  know 
that  dreams  always  go  by  contraries.     All  will  go  well.'' 

"  Is  there  anything  new  1 "  asked  D'Harmental. 

"  And  if  there  were,  how  would  you  receive  it  1 " 

"  I  should  be  enchanted.  When  an  enterprise  of  this 
kind  is  ouce  undertaken,  the  sooner  it  is  finished,  the 
better." 

"  Well,  then,"  said  Brigaud,  drawing  a  paper  from  his 
pocket  and  presenting  it  to  the  chevalier,  "read,  and 
glorify  the  name  of  the  Lord,  for  you  have  your 
wish." 

D'Harmental  took  the  paper,  unfolded  it  as  calmly 
as  if  it  were  a  matter  of  no  moment,  and  read  as 
follows  :  — 

10 


146  LE  CHEVALIER   D'HARMENTAL. 

Report  of  the  27  th  of  March. 

Two  in  the  morning. 

To-night  at  ten  o'clock  the  regent  received  a  courier  from 
London,  who  announces  for  to-morrow  the  arrival  of  the  Abbe 
Dubois.  As  by  chance  the  regent  was  supping  with  Madame, 
the  despatch  was  given  to  him  in  spite  of  the  late  hour.  Some 
minutes  before,  Mademoiselle  de  Chartres  had  asked  permis- 
sion of  her  father  to  perform  her  devotions  at.  the  Abbey  of 
Chelles,  and  he  had  promised  to  conduct  her  thither  ;  but  on 
the  receipt  of  this  letter  his  determination  was  changed,  and 
he  has  ordered  the  council  to  meet  at  noon. 

At  three  o'clock  the  regent  will  pay  his  Majesty  a  visit  at 
the  Tuileries.  He  has  asked  for  a  tete-a-tete,  for  he  is  begin- 
ning to  be  impatient  at  the  obstinacy  of  the  Marechal  de  Ville- 
roy,  who  maintains  that  he  ought  always  to  be  present  at  the 
interviews  between  the  regent  and  his  Majesty.  Report  says 
that  if  this  obstinacy  continues,  it  will  be  the  worse  for  the 
marshal. 

At  six  o'clock  the  regent,  the  Chevalier  de  Simiane,  and 
the  Chevalier  de  Ravanne,  will  sup  with  Madame  de  Sabran. 

"  AJa,  ah  ! "  said  D'Harmental ;  and  he  read  again  the 
last  sentence,  weighing  every  word. 

"  Well,  what  do  you  think  of  this  little  paragraph  1 " 
asked  the  abbe. 

The  chevalier  jumped  from  his  bed,  put  on  his  dressing- 
gown,  took  from  his  drawer  a  crimson  ribbon,  a  hammer, 
and  a  nail,  and  having  opened  his  window  (not  without 
throwing  a  stolen  glance  at  that  of  his  neighbor),  he 
nailed  the  ribbon  to  the  outer  wall. 

"  There  is  my  answer,"  said  he. 

"  What  the  devil  does  that  mean  1 " 

"That  means,"  said  D'Harmental,  "that  you  may  go 
and  tell  Madame  du  Maine  that  I  hope  this  evening  to 
fulfil  my  promise  to  her.  And  now  go  away,  my  dear 
Abbe,  and  do  not  come  back  for  two  hours,  for  I  expect 


THE  CRIMSON   RIBBON.  147 

some   one   whom   it   would    be   better   you   should    not 
meet." 

The  abbe,  who  was  prudence  itself,  did  not  wait  to  be 
told  twice,  but  pressed  the  chevalier's  hand  and  left 
him.  Twenty  minutes  afterward  Captain  Roquefinette 
entered. 


148  LE  CHEVALIER  D?HARMENTAL. 


CHAPTEE    XV. 


THE   RUE   DES    BONS-ENFANS. 


The  evening  of  the  same  day,  which  was  Sunday,  toward 
eight  o'clock,  at  the  moment  when  a  considerable  group 
of  men  and  women,  assembled  round  a  street  singer  who 
was  playing  at  the  same  time  the  cymbals  with  his  knees 
and  the  tambourine  with  his  hands,  obstructed  the  en- 
trance to  the  Rue  de  Valois,  a  musketeer  and  two  soldiers 
belonging  to  the  light-horse  descended  a  back  staircase 
of  the  Palais  Royal,  and  advanced  toward  the  Passage 
du  Lycee,  which,  as  every  one  knows,  opened  on  that 
street ;  but  seeing  the  crowd  which  barred  the  way,  the 
three  soldiers  stopped  and  appeared  to  take  counsel.  The 
result  of  their  deliberation  was  doubtless  that  they  must 
take  another  route,  for  the  musketeer,  taking  the  initia- 
tive, threaded  the  Cours  des  Fontaines,  turned  the  corner 
of  the  Rue  des  Bons-Enfans,  and  walking  rapidly,  though 
he  was  extremely  corpulent,  arrived  at  No.  22,  which 
opened  as  by  enchantment  at  his  approach,  and  closed 
again  on  him   and  his  two   companions. 

At  the  moment  when  they  started  on  this  little  detour, 
a  young  man,  dressed  in  a  dark  coat,  wrapped  in  a  cloak 
of  the  same  color,  and  wearing  a  broad-brimmed  hat 
pulled  down  over  his  eyes,  left  the  group  which  sur- 
rounded the  singer,  singing  himself,  to  the  tune  of 
"Les  Pendus,"  "Vingt-quatre,  vingt-quatre,  vingt-quatre," 
and  advancing  rapidly  toward  the  Passage  du  Lycee,  ar- 
rived at  the  further  end  in  time  to  see  the  three  illustrious 


THE  RUE  DES  BONS-ENFANS.  149 

vagabonds  enter  the  house,  as  we  have  said.  He  threw 
a  glance  round  him,  and  by  the  light  of  one  of  the  three 
lanterns  which  lighted,  or  rather  ought  to  have  lighted, 
the  whole  length  of  the  street,  he  perceived  one  of  those 
immense  coal-heavers,  with  a  face  of  the  color  of  soot,  so 
well  represented  by  Greuze,  who  was  resting  against  one 
of  the  posts  of  the  Hotel  de  la  Roche-Guyon,  on  which  he 
had  hung  his  bag.  For  an  instant  he  appeared  to  hesitate 
to  approach  this  man;  but  the  coal-heaver  having  sung, 
to  the  tune  of  "  Les  Pendus,"  the  same  refrain  which 
the  young  man  in  the  cloak  had  been  singing,  the  latter 
appeared  to  lose  all  hesitation,  and  went  straight  to  him. 
-  "  Well,  Captain,"  said  the  man  in  the  cloak,  "  did  you 
see  them  1 " 

"As  plainly  as  I  see  you,  Colonel,  —  a  musketeer  and 
two  members  of  the  light-horse ;  but  I  could  not  recog- 
nize them.  However,  as  the  musketeer  hid  his  face  in 
his  handkerchief,  I  presume  he  was  the  regent." 

"  Exactly ;  and  the  other  two  are  Simiane  and  Ravanne." 

"  Ah,  ah  !  my  pupil,"  said  the  captain,  "  I  shall  have 
great  pleasure  in  seeing  him  again ;  he  is  a  good  boy." 

"  At  any  rate,  Captain,  take  care  he  does  not  recognize 
you." 

"  Recognize  me  !  He  must  be  the  devil  himself  to 
recognize  me,  accoutred  as  I  am.  It  is  you,  rather,  Cheva- 
lier, who  should  take  care.  You  have  an  unfortunately 
aristocratic  air,  which  does  not  suit  at  all  with  your  dress. 
But  that  is  not  the  question  ;  here  they  are  in  the  trap, 
and  our  business  is  to  see  that  they  don't  get  out.  Have 
our  men  been  told  1 " 

"  Your  men,  Captain  1  I  know  no  more  of  them  than 
they  do  of  me.  I  left  the  group,  and  sang  at  the  same 
time  the  refrain  which  was  our  signal.  Did  they  hear 
me?     Did  they  understand  me?     I  know  nothing  of  it." 


150  LE  CHEVALIER   D'HARMENTAL. 

"  Be  easy,  Colonel.  These  fellows  hear  half  a  voice, 
and  understand  half  a  word." 

Indeed,  as  soon  as  the  man  in  the  cloak  had  left  the 
group,  a  strange  fluctuation  which  he  had  not  foreseen 
began  to  take  place  in  the  crowd,  which  appeared  to  be 
composed  only  of  passers-by,  so  that  the  song  was  not 
finished,  nor  the  collection  taken.  The  crowd  dispersed. 
A  considerable  number  of  men  left  the  circle  singly,  or 
two  and  two,  turning  toward  one  another  with  an  almost 
imperceptible  gesture  of  the  hand,  some  by  the  Rue  de 
Valois,  some  by  the  Cour  des  Fontaines,  some  by  the 
Palais  Royal  itself,  thus  surrounding  the  Rue  des  Bons- 
Enfans,  which  seemed  to  be  the  centre  of  the  rendezvous. 
In  consequence  of  this  manoeuvre,  the  intention  of  which 
it  is  easy  to  understand,  there  remained  with  the  singer 
ten  or  twelve  women,  some  children,  and  a  good  bourgeois, 
about  forty  years  old,  who,  seeing  that  the  collection  was 
about  to  begin,  left  his  place  with  an  air  of  profound 
contempt  for  all  these  new  songs,  and  humming  an  old 
pastoral  which  he  appeared  to  hold  far  superior  to  the 
frivolities  to  which  the  bad  taste  of  the  time  had  given 
popularity.  It  seemed  to  him  that  several  men  as  he 
passed  them  made  him  signs ;  but  as  he  did  not  belong  to 
any  secret  society  or  any  Masonic  lodge,  he  went  on,  sing- 
ing his  favorite  — 

"  Then  let  me  go, 
And  let  me  play 
Beneath  the  hazel-tree," 

and  after  following  the  Rue  St.  Honore*  to  the  Barriere 
des  Deux-Sergens,  turned  the  corner  of  the  Rue  du  Coq 
and  disappeared. 

Almost  at  the  same  moment  the  man  in  the  cloak,  who 
had  been  the  first  to  leave  the  group,  reappeared,  and 
accosting  the  singer,  "  My  friend,"  said  he,  "  my  wife  is 


THE  RUE  DES   BONS-ENFANS.  151 

ill,  and  your  music  will  prevent  her  sleeping.  If  you 
have  no  particular  reason  for  remaining  here,  go  to  the 
Place  du  Palais  Royal ;  and  here  is  a  crown  to  indemnify 
you." 

"  Thank  you,  Monseigneur,"  replied  the  singer,  measur- 
ing the  social  position  of  the  giver  by  his  generosity.  "  I 
will  go  directly.  Have  you  any  commissions  for  the  Rue 
Mouffetard  1 " 

"No." 

"  Because  I  would  have  executed  them  into  the  bargain." 

The  man  went  away ;  and  as  he  was  at  once  the  centre 
and  the  cause  of  the  gathering,  all  those  who  had  re- 
mained disappeared  with  him.  At  this  moment  the  clock 
of  the  Palais  Royal  struck  nine.  The  young  man  drew 
from  his  pocket  a  watch,  whose  diamond  setting  con- 
trasted strangely  with  his  simple  costume.  He  set  it 
exactly,  then  turned  and  went  into  the  Rue  des  Bons- 
Enfans.  On  arriving  opposite  No.  24,  he  found  the 
coal-heaver. 

"  And  the  singer  1 "  asked  the  latter. 

"  He  has  gone." 

"  Good  ! " 

"  And  the  postchaise  ? "  asked  the  man  in  the  cloak. 

"  It  is  waiting  at  the  corner  of  the  Rue  Baillif." 

"  Have  they  taken  the  precaution  of  wrapping  the 
wheels  and  horses'  hoofs  in  rags?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Very  good.  Now  let  us  wait,"  said  the  man  in  the 
cloak. 

"  Let  us  wait,"  replied  the  coal-heaver. 

An  hour  passed,  during  which  a  few  passers-by  crossed 
the  street  at  intervals  ;  but  at  length  it  became  almost 
deserted.  The  few  lighted  windows  were  darkened  one 
after  the  other ;  and  night,  having  now  nothing  to  contend 


152  LE  CHEVALIER   D'HARMENTAL. 

with  but  the  two  lanterns,  one  of  which  was  opposite  the 
chapel  of  St.  Clair,  and  the  other  at  the  corner  of  the  Rue 
Baillif,  at  length  reigned  over  the  domain  which  it  had 
long  claimed.  Another  hour  passed.  They  heard  the 
watchman  go  by  in  the  Rue  de  Valois ;  behind  him  the 
keeper  of  the  passage  came  to  close  the  door. 

"  Good  ! "  murmured  the  man  in  the  cloak ;  "  now  we 
are  sure  not  to  be  interrupted." 

"  Provided,"  replied  the  coal-heaver,  "  the  regent  leaves 
before  day." 

"  If  he  were  alone,  we  might  fear  his  remaining,  but 
Madame  de  Sabran  will  scarcely  keep  all  three." 

"  Hum !  she  might  lend  her  chamber  to  one,  and  let 
the  other  two  sleep  under  the  table." 

"  Peste  !  you  are  right,  Captain  ;  and  I  had  not  thought 
of  it.     Are  all  your  precautions  taken  1 " 

"All." 

"  And  your  men  believe  that  it  is  a  question  of  a  bet  1 n 

"  They  appear  to  believe  it  at  least,  and  we  cannot  ask 
more." 

*  Then  it  is  well  understood,  Captain.  You  and  your 
men  are  drunk.  You  push  me.  I  fall  between  the  regent 
and  him  who  has  his  arm.  I  separate  them.  You  seize 
on  him  and  gag  him,  and  at  a  whistle  the  carriage  arrives, 
while  Simiane  and  Ravanne  are  held  with  pistols  at  their 
throats." 

"  But,"  answered  the  coal-heaver,  in  a  low  voice,  "  if  he 
declares  his  name." 

The  man  in  the  cloak  replied  in  a  still  lower  tone,  "  In 
conspiracies  there  are  no  half-measures.  If  he  declares 
himself,  you  must  kill  him." 

"Peste/"  said  the  coal-heaver;  "let  us  try  to  prevent 
his  declaring  himself." 

There  was  no  reply,  and  all  was  again  silent.     A  quar- 


THE  RUE  DES  BONS-ENFANS.  153 

ter  of  an  hour  passed,  and  then  a  light  which  came  from 
the  farther  side  of  the  apartment  illumined  the  three 
middle  windows. 

"Ah,  ah,  there  is  something  new  ! "  they  both  exclaimed. 

At  this  moment  they  heard  the  step  of  a  man  who 
came  from  the  Rue  St.  Honore,  and  who  was  preparing  to 
go  the  whole  length  of  the  street.  The  coal-heaver  mut- 
tered a  terrible  oath.  The  man  continued  to  advance ; 
but  either  the  darkness  sufficed  to  frighten  him,  or  he  saw 
something  suspicious  moving  there,  for  it  was  evident 
that  he  was  agitated  by  some  disturbing  emotion.  As 
he  reached  the  Hotel  St.  Clair,  employing  that  old  ruse  of 
cowards  who  wish  to  appear  brave,  he  began  to  sing. 
But  as  he  advanced,  his  voice  became  more  uncertain ; 
and  though  the  innocence  of  the  song  proved  the  serenity 
of  his  heart,  on  arriving  opposite  the  passage,  his  fear  be- 
came so  strong  that  he  began  to  cough,  which,  as  we 
know,  in  the  gamut  of  terror  indicates  a  greater  degree 
of  fear  than  singing.  Seeing,  however,  that  nothing 
moved  near  where  he  was,  he  took  courage,  and  in  a 
voice  more  in  harmony  with  his  present  situation  than 
with  the  sense  of  the  words,   he  began,  — 

"Then  let  me  go, 
And  let  me  —  " 

but  there  he  stopped  short,  not  only  in  his  song,  but  in 
his  walk  ;  for  having  perceived  two  men  standing  in  a 
doorway,  he  felt  his  voice  and  his  legs  fail  him  at  once, 
and  he  drew  up  motionless  and  silent.  Unfortunately,  at 
this  moment  a  shadow  approached  the  window.  The 
coal-heaver  saw  that  a  cry  might  ruin  all,  and  moved,  as 
if  to  spring  on  the  passenger;  his  companion  held  him 
back. 

"  Captain,"  he  whispered,  "  don't  hurt  this  man ; "  and 


154  LE  CHEVALIER   D'HARMENTAL. 

then,  approaching  him,  "  Pass  on,  my  friend,"  he  said, 
"but  pass  quickly,  and  do  not  look  back." 

The  singer  did  not  wait  to  be  told  twice,  but  made  off 
as  fast  as  his  little  legs  and  his  trembling  condition 
allowed,  so  that  in  a  few  seconds  he  had  disappeared  at 
the  corner  of  the  Hotel  de   Toulouse. 

"  'T  was  time,"  murmured  the  coal-heaver  ;  "  they  are 
opening  the  window." 

The  two  men  drew  back  as  far  as  possible  into  the 
shade.  The  window  was  opened,  and  one  of  the  regent's 
companions  appeared  on  the  balcony. 

"  Well ! "  said  a  voice,  which  the  coal-heaver  and  his 
companion  recognized  as  that  of  the  regent,  from  the 
interior  of  the  room.  "Well,  Simiane,  what  kind  of 
weather  is  it  1 " 

"  Oh  !  "  replied  Simiane,  "  I  think  it  snows." 

"  You  think  it  snows  ? " 

"  Or  rains,  I  don't  know  which,"  continued  Simiane. 

"  What ! "  said  Ravanne,  "  can't  you  tell  what  is  fall- 
ing?"  and  he  also  came  out  on  the  balcony. 

"  After  all,"  said  Simiane,  "  I  am  not  sure  that  any- 
thing is  falling." 

"  He  is  dead  drunk,"  said  the  regent. 

"  I !  "  said  Simiane,  wounded  in  his  pride  as  a  toper, 
"  I  dead  drunk  !     Come  here,  Monseigneur,  come." 

Though  the  invitation  was  given  in  a  strange  manner, 
the  regent  joined  his  companions,  laughing.  By  his  gait 
it  was  easy  to  see  that  he  himself  was  more  than  warmed. 

"  Ah,  dead  drunk  ! "  replied  Simiane,  holding  out  his 
hand  to  the  prince.  "  Well,  I  bet  you  a  hundred  louis 
that,  regent  of  France  as  you  are,  you  will  not  do  what 
I  do." 

"  You  hear,  Monseigneur,"  said  a  female  voice  from  the 
room ;  "  it  is  a  challenge." 


THE   RUE   DES  BONS-ENFANS.  155 

"And  as  such  I  accept  it ;  done,  for  a  hundred  louis." 

"  I  go  halves  with  whoever  likes/'  said  Ravanne. 

"Bet  with  the  marchioness,"  said  Simiane;  "I  admit 
no  one  into  my  game." 

"  Nor  I,"  said  the  regent. 

"  Marchioness,"  cried  Ravanne,  "  fifty  louis  to  a  kiss." 

"  Ask  Philippe  if  he  permits  it." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  regent,  "it  is  a  golden  bargain ;  you 
are  sure  to  win.     Well,  are  you  ready,  Simiane  ] " 

"lam;  will  you  follow  me  1 " 

"  Everywhere." 

u  What  are  you  going  to  do  % " 

"Look." 

"  Where  the  devil  are  you  going  1 " 

"  I  am  going  into  the  Palais  Royal." 

"How?" 

"By  the  roofs." 

And  Simiane,  taking  hold  of  the  fan-like  iron  ornament 
which  we  have  said  separated  the  windows  of  the  drawing- 
room  from  those  of  the  bedroom,  began  to  climb  like 
a  monkey. 

"  Monseigneur,"  cried  Madame  de  Sabran,  bounding  on 
the  balcony,  and  catching  the  prince  by  the  arm,  "  I  hope 
you  will  not  follow." 

"Not  follow1?"  said  the  regent,  freeing  himself  from 
the  marchioness's  arm ;  "  do  you  know  that  I  hold  as  a 
principle  that  whatever  another  man  tries,  I  can  do  1  If 
he  goes  up  to  the  moon,  devil  take  me  if  I  am  not  there 
to  knock  at  the  door  as  soon  as  he !  Did  you  bet  on  me, 
Ravanne 1 " 

"  Yes,  my  Prince,"  replied  the  young  man,  laughing. 

"  Then  take  your  kiss,  you  have  won  ;  "  and  the  regent 
seized  the  iron  bars,  climbing  behind  Simiane,  who,  active, 
tall,  and  slender,  was  in  an  instant  on  the  terrace. 


156  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

"  But  I  hope  you,  at  least,  will  remain,  Ravanne  1  n 
said  the  marchioness. 

"Long  enough  to  claim  your  stakes,"  said  the  young 
man,  kissing  the  beautiful  fresh  cheeks  of  Madame  de 
Sabran.  "Now,  adieu,"  he  continued,  "I  am  Mon- 
seigneur's  page;  you  understand  that  I  must  follow  him." 
And  Ravanne  in  his  turn  started  eagerly  on  the  perilous 
ascent  already  undertaken  by  his  companions. 

The  coal-heaver  and  the  man  in  the  cloak  uttered  an 
exclamation  of  astonishment,  which  was  repeated  along 
the  street  as  if  every  door  had  an  echo. 

"  Ah,  what  is  that  1 "  said  Simiane,  who  had  arrived 
first  on  the  terrace. 

"  Do  you  see,  double  drunkard  ? "  said  the  regent,  seiz- 
ing the  railing  of  the  terrace,  "  it  is  the  watch,  and  you 
will  get  us  taken  to  the  guard-house ;  but  I  promise  you 
I  will  leave  you  there." 

At  these  words  those  who  were  in  the  street  wrere 
silent,  hoping  that  the  duke  and  his  companions  would 
push  the  joke  no  further,  but  would  come  down  and  go 
out  by  the  ordinary  road. 

"  Ah,  here  lam!"  said  the  regent,  landing  on  the  ter- 
race j  u  have  you  had  enough,  Simiane  1  " 

"  No,  Monseigneur,"  replied  Simiane ;  and  bending 
down  to  Ravanne,  "that  is  not  the  watch,"  he  continued; 
"not  a  musket,  —  not  a  jerkin." 

"  What  is  the  matter  ? "  asked  the  regent. 

"Nothing,"  replied  Simiane,  making  a  sign  to  Ravanne, 
"except  that  I  continue  my  ascent,  and  invite  you  to 
follow  me." 

And  at  these  words,  holding  out  his  hand  to  the  re- 
gent, he  began  to  scale  the  roof,  drawing  him  after  him, 
Ravanne  brought  up  the  rear. 

At  this  sight,  as  there  was  no  longer  any  doubt  of  their 


THE  RUE  DES  BONS-ENFANS.  157 

intention,  the  coal-heaver  uttered  a  malediction,  and  the 
man  in  the  cloak  a  cry  of  rage. 

"  Eh,  eh  ! "  said  the  regent,  sitting  astride  the  roof  and 
looking  down  the  street,  where  by  the  light  from  the  open 
windows  of  the  salon  they  saw  eight  or  ten  men  moving, 
"  what  the  devil  is  that,  —  a  plot  1  Ah,  one  would  sup- 
pose they  wanted  to  scale  the  house  ;  they  are  furious. 
I  have  a  mind  to  ask  them  what  we  can  do  to  help 
them." 

"No  joking,  Monseigneur,"  said  Simiane;  "let  us 
go  on." 

"  Turn  by  the  Rue  St.  Honore,"  said  the  man  in  tho 
cloak.     "  Forward,  forward  !  "  . 

"  It  is  indeed  we  whom  they  are  after,  Simiane,"  said 
the  regent ;  "  quick  to  the  other  side  !     Back,  bank  ! " 

"  I  don't  know  what  prevents  me,"  said  the  man  in  the 
cloak,  drawing  a  pistol  from  his  belt  and  aiming  at  the 
regent,  "  from  bringing  him  down  like  a  partridge." 

"  Thousand  thunders  !  "  cried  the  coal-heaver,  stopping 
him,  "you  will  get  us  all  quartered." 

"  But  what  are  we  to  do  1 " 

"  Wait  till  they  come  down  of  themselves,  and  break 
their  necks  in  falling ;  for  if  Providence  is  just,  that  little 
surprise  awaits  us." 

"  Oh,  I  have  an  idea,  Roquefinette  ! " 

"  Eh,  Colonel !  no  names,  if  you  please." 

"  You  are  right ;  pardon  !  " 

"There  is  no  need ;  let  us  have  the  idea." 

"  Follow  me ! "  cried  the  man  in  the  cloak,  springing 
into  the  passage.  "  Let  us  break  open  the  door,  and  we 
will  take  them  on  the  other  side  when  they  jump  down." 

Those  of  his  companions  who  had  still  remained  in  that 
place  followed  him.  The  others,  to  the  number  of  five  or 
six,  were  already  making  for  the  Rue  St.  Honore\ 


158  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

"  Come,  come,  Monseigneur,"  said  Simiane  ;  "  we  have 
not  a  minute  to  lose.  Slide  on  your  back ;  it  is  not  glo- 
rious, but  it  is  safe." 

"  I  think  I  hear  them  in  the  passage,"  said  the  regent ; 
"  what  do  you  think,  Ravanne  1 " 

"I  do  not  think  at  all,"  said  Kavanne,  "I  let  myself 
slip." 

They  all,  with  equal  rapidity,  slid  down  the  slope  of 
the  roof,  and  landed  on  the  terrace. 

"  Here,  here !  "  said  a  woman's  voice,  at  the  moment 
when  Simiane  threw  his  leg  over  the  parapet  of  the  ter- 
race to  descend  its  iron  ladder. 

"Ah,  is  it  you,  Marchioness!"  said  the  regent;  "you 
are  indeed  a  friend  in  need." 

"  Jump  in  here  and  descend  quickly." 

The  three  fugitives  sprang  into  the  room. 

"Do  you  prefer  to  remain  here1?"  asked  Madame  de 
Sabran. 

"  Yes,"  said  Eavanne  \  "  I  will  go  and  look  for  Canillac 
and  his  night-watch." 

"  No,  no,"  said  the  regent ;  "  they  will  be  scaling  your 
house  and  treating  it  as  a  town  taken  by  assault.  Let  us^ 
gain  the  Palais  Royal." 

They  descended  the  staircase  rapidly  and  opened  the 
garden  door.  There  they  heard  the  despairing  blows  of 
their  pursuers  against  the  iron  gates. 

"  Strike,  strike,  my  friends  !  "  said  the  regent,  running 
with  the  carelessness  and  activity  of  a  young  man  toward 
the  end  of  the  garden ;  "  the  gate  is  solid,  and  will  give 
you  plenty  of  work." 

"  Quick,  quick,  Monseigneur  ! "  cried  Simiane,  who, 
thanks  to  his  great  height,  had  jumped  to  the  ground 
after  letting  himself  down  by  his  arms ;  "  there  they  are, 
running  toward  the  end  of  the  Rue  de  Valois.     Put  your 


THE  RUE  DES  BONS-ENFANS.  159 

foot  on  my  shoulder  —  now  the  other  —  and  let  yourself 
slip  into  my  arms.     You  are  saved,  thank  God  ! " 

"Draw  your  sword,  Eavanne,  and  let  us  charge  these 
fellows,"  said  the  regent. 

"  In  the  name  of  Heaven,  Monseigneur,"  cried  Simiane, 
urging  on  the  prince,  "  follow  us  !  I  am  not  a  coward,  I 
believe,  but  what  you  would  do  is  mere  folly.  Here, 
Eavanne." 

And  the  young  men,  each  taking  one  of  the  duke's 
arms,  led  him  down  one  of  those  passages  always  open  to 
the  Palais  Eoyal  at  the  moment  when  those  who  were 
running  by  the  Eue  de  Valois  were  only  twenty  paces 
from  them,  and  when  the  door  of  the  passage  fell  under 
the  efforts  of  the  second  troop.  The  whole  reunited  band 
rushed  against  the  gate  at  the  moment  that  the  three  gen- 
tlemen closed  it  behind  them. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  the  regent,  saluting  with  his  hand, 
for  as  to  his  hat,  God  knows  what  had  become  of  that, 
"  I  hope  for  the  sake  of  your  heads  that  all  this  was  only 
a  joke ;  for  you  are  attacking  those  who  are  stronger  than 
yourselves.  Beware,  to-morrow,  of  the  lieutenant  of  police. 
Meanwhile,  good-night."  And  a  triple  shout  of  laughter 
petrified  the  two  conspirators  leaning  against  the  gate  at 
the  head  of  their  breathless  companions. 

"  This  man  must  have  a  compact  with  Satan ! "  cried 
D'Harmental. 

"  We  have  lost  the  bet,  my  friends,"  said  Eoquefinette, 
addressing  his  men,  who  stood  waiting  for  orders,  "but 
we  do  not  dismiss  you  yet ;  the  affair  is  only  postponed. 
As  to  the  promised  sum,  you  have  already  had  half;  to- 
morrow—  you  know  where  —  you  will  have  the  rest. 
Good-evening.     I  shall  be  at  the  rendezvous  to-morrow." 

All  the  men  dispersed,  and  the  two  chiefs  remained 
alone. 


160  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

"Well,  Colonel  ?"  said  Roquefinette,  looking  D'Har- 
mental  full  in  the  face. 

"Well,  Captain,"  replied  the  chevalier;  "I  have  a 
great  mind  to  ask  one   thing  of  you." 

"  What  is  that  ? "  asked  Roquefinette. 

"  To  follow  me  into  some  by-lane,  and  blow  my  brains 
out  with  your  pistol,  that  this  miserable  head  of  mine 
may  be  battered  beyond  possibility  of  recognition." 

"Why  so?" 

"  Why  ?  Because  in  such  matters,  when  one  fails,  one 
is  but  a  fool.  What  am  I  to  say  now  to  Madame  du 
Maine  ? " 

"  What !  "  cried  Roquefinette,  "  is  it  about  that  little 
hop-o'-my-thumb  that  you  are  bothering  yourself?  Par- 
dieu !  you  are  frantically  susceptible,  Colonel.  Why 
the  devil  does  not  her  lame  husband  attend  to  his  own 
affairs?  I  should  have  liked  to  see  her,  —  your  haughty 
prude,  with  her  two  cardinals  and  her  three  or  four 
marquises,  who  are  bursting  with  fear  at  this  moment  in 
a  corner  of  the  Arsenal,  while  we  remain  masters  ofvthe 
field  of  battle,  —  I  should  have  liked  to  see  if  they  would 
climb  walls  like  lizards.  Stay,  Colonel,  listen  to  an  old 
fox.  To  be  a  good  conspirator,  you  must  have  first,  what 
you  have,  —  courage ;  but  you  must  also  have  what  you 
have  not,  —  patience.  Morbleu!  if  I  had  such  an  affair 
in  my  hands,  I  would  answer  for  it  that  I  would  bring  it 
to  a  good  end ;  and  if  you  like  to  make  it  over  to  me,  we 
will  talk  of  that." 

"But  in  my  place,"  asked  the  colonel,  "what  would 
you  say  to  Madame  du  Maine?" 

"  Oh,  I  should  say,  '  My  Princess,  the  regent  must 
have  been  warned  by  his  police,  for  he  did  not  leave  as 
we  expected,  and  we  saw  none  but  his  roue  companions, 
who  cheated  us  of  our  prey/     Then  the  Prince  de  Cella- 


THE  RUE  DES  BONS-ENFANS.  161 

mare  will  say  to  you,  'My  dear  D'Harmental,  we  have 
no  resources  but  in  you/  Madame  du  Maine  will  say, 
'All  is  not  lost,  since  the  brave  D'Harmental  remains  to 
us.'  The  Comte  de  Laval  will  grasp  your  hand  trying  to 
pay  you  a  compliment,  which  he  will  not  finish,  because 
since  his  jaw  is  broken,  his  tongue  is  not  active,  particu- 
larly for  compliments.  The  Cardinal  de  Polignac  will 
make  the  sign  of  the  cross.  Alberoni  will  swear  enough 
to  shake  the  heavens.  In  this  manner  you  will  have  con- 
ciliated everybody,  saved  your  pride,  and  may  return  to 
hide  in  your  attic,  which  I  advise  you  not  to  leave  for 
three  or  four  days  if  you  do  not  wish  to  be  hanged. 
From  time  to  time  I  will  pay  you  a  visit.  You  will  con- 
tinue to  bestow  on  me  some  of  the  liberalities  of  Spain, 
because  it  is  of  importance  to  me  to  live  agreeably,  and 
keep  up  my  spirits.  Then  at  the  first  opportunity  we 
recall  our  brave  fellows  and  take  our  revenge." 

"Yes,  certainly,"  said  D'Harmental,  "that  is  what  any 
other  would  do ;  but  you  see  I  have  some  foolish  ideas,  — 
T  cannot  lie." 

"  Whoever  cannot  lie  cannot  act,"  replied  the  captain. 

"  But  what  do  I  see  there  1     The  bayonets  of  the  watch  ! 

Amicable  institution,  I  recognize   you  there,  —  always  a 

quarter  of  an  hour  too  late.     But  now  adieu,  Colonel. 

There  is  your  road  ;  we  must  separate,"  continued  the 

captain,  showing  the  Passage  du  Palais  Royal.     "  And  here 

5s  mine,"  he  added,  pointing  to  the  Rue  Neuve-des-Petits- 

Champs.     "  Come,  be  calm  ;  go  quietly,  that  no  one  may 

suspect  that  you  ought  to  run  as  fast  as  you  can,  —  your 

hand  on  your  hip,  so,  and  singing  '  La  Mere  Gaudichon.' " 

And  the  captain  followed  ,the  Rue  de  Valois  at  the  same 

pace  as  the  watch,  who  were  a  hundred  feet  behind  him, 

«inging  carelessly  as  he  went. 

As  to  the  chevalier,  he  re-entered  the  Rue  des  Bons- 
11 


162  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

Enfans,  now  as  quiet  as  it  had  been  noisy  ten  minutes 
before ;  and  at  the  corner  of  the  Rue  Baillif  he  found  the 
carriage,  which,  according  to  his  orders,  had  not  moved, 
and  was  waiting  with  the  door  open,  the  lackey  at  the 
step,  and  the  coachman  on  his  box. 

"  To  the  Arsenal ! "  said  the  chevalier. 

"  It  is  useless,"  said  a  voice  which  made  D'Harmental 
start.  "  I  know  all  that  has  happened,  for  I  was  there ; 
and  I  will  inform  those  who  ought  to  know.  Your  visit 
at  this  hour  would  be  dangerous  for  all." 

"Ah,  it  is  you,  Abbe,"  said  D'Harmental,  trying  to 
recognize  Brigaud  in  the  livery  in  which  he  was  disguised. 
"  Very  good  !  you  will  render  me  a  real  service  in  taking 
the  news  instead  of  me,  for  on  my  honor  I  don't  know 
what  to  say." 

"Well,  I  shall  say,"  said  Brigaud,  "that  }Tou  are  a 
brave  and  loyal  gentleman,  and  that  if  there  were  ten 
like  you  in  France,  all  would  soon  be  finished.  But^we 
are  not  here  to  pay  compliments ;  get  in  quickly.  Where 
ehall  I  take  you?" 

"  It  is  useless,"  said  D'Harmental ;  "  I  will  go  on  foot." 

"  Get  in.     It  is  safer." 

D'Harmental  complied,  and  Brigaud,  dressed  as  he  was, 
like  a  footman,  unceremoniously  took  a  seat  by  his  side. 

"To  the  corner  of  the  Rue  du  Gros-Chenet  and  the 
Rue  de  Clery,"  said  the  abbe. 

The  coachman,  impatient  at  having  waited  so  long? 
obeyed  at  once.  At  the  place  indicated  the  carriage 
stopped ;  the  chevalier  got  out,  and  soon  disappeared 
round  the  corner  of  the  Rue  du  Temps-Perdu.  As  to  the 
carriage,  it  rolled  on  noiselessly  toward  the  Boulevards, 
like  a  fairy  car  which  does  not  touch  the  earth. 


GOODMAN   BUVAT.  163 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

GOODMAN    BUVAT. 

Our  readers  must  now  make  a  better  acquaintance  with 
one  of  the  principal  personages  in  the  history  which  we 
have  undertaken  to  relate,  whom  as  yet  we  have  merely 
pointed  out  to  them  in  passing.  We  refer  to  the  wor- 
thy bourgeois  whom  we  have  seen  leaving  the  group 
in  the  Rue  de  Valois,  and  making  for  the  Barriere  des 
Sergens  at  the  moment  when  the  street  singer  began  his 
collection,  and  whom,  it  will  be  remembered,  we  have 
since  seen  at  so  inopportune  a  moment  in  the  Rue  des 
Bons-Enfans. 

God  forbid  that  we  should  disparage  the  intelligence  of 
our  readers  so  much  as  to  doubt  for  a  moment  that  they 
have  recognized  in  the  poor  devil  to  whom  the  Chevalier 
d'Harmental  had  rendered  such  timely  assistance  the  good 
man  of  the  terrace  in  the  Rue  du  Temps-Perdu.  But 
they  cannot  know,  unless  we  tell  them  in  detail,  what 
that  poor  devil  was,  physically,  morally,  and  socially. 
If  the  reader  has  not  forgotten  the  little  we  have  already 
narrated  concerning  him,  it  will  be  remembered  that  he 
was  from  forty  to  forty-five  years  of  age.  Now,  as  every 
one  knows,  after  forty  years  of  age  the  bourgeois  of  Paris 
entirely  forgets  the  care  of  his  person,  with  which  gener- 
ally he  is  not  much  occupied,  —  a  negligence  from  which 
his  corporeal  graces  suffer  considerably,  particularly  when, 
as  in  the  present  instance,  they  are  not  much  to  be  ad' 
mired  on  their  own  account. 


164  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

Our  bourgeois  was  a  little  man  of  five  feet  one  inch, 
short  and  fat,  with  a  tendency  to  become  obese  as  he 
advanced  in  age,  and  with  one  of  those  placid  faces  where 
all  —  hair,  eyebrows,  eyes,  and  skin,  —  seem  of  the  same 
color;  in  fact,  one  of  those  faces  of  which,  at  ten  paces, 
one  does  not  distinguish  a  feature.  The  most  enthusiastic 
physiognomist,  if  he  had  sought  to  read  on  this  counte- 
nance some  high  and  curious  destiny,  would  have  been 
stopped  in  his  examination  as  soon  as  he  mounted  from 
his  great  blue  eyes  to  his  depressed  forehead,  or  descended 
from  his  half-open  mouth  to  the  fold  of  his  double  chin. 
Then  he  would  have  understood  that  he  had  under  ob- 
servation one  of  those  heads  to  which  all  fermentation  is 
unknown,  whose  freshness  is  respected  by  the  passions, 
good  or  bad,  and  who  turn  nothing  in  the  empty  corners 
of  their  brain  but  the  refrain  of  some  old  nursery  sOng. 
Let  us  add  that  Providence,  who  does  nothing  by  halves, 
had  signed  the  original,  of  which  we  have  just  offered  a 
copy  to  our  readers,  by  the  characteristic  name  of  Jean 
Buvat.  It  is  true  that  those  who  were  able  to  appreciate 
the  profound  nullity  of  spirit  and  excellent  qualities  of 
heart  of  this  worthy  man  usually  suppressed  the  name 
given  him  in  baptism,  and  called  him  simply,  "  Goodman 
Buvat." 

In  his  early  youth  the  little  Buvat,  who  had  a  marked 
repugnance  for  all  kinds  of  study,  manifested  a  particular 
inclination  for  caligraphy.  Thus  he  arrived  every  morn- 
ing at  the  College  des  Oratoriens,  where  his  mother  sent 
him  gratis,  with  his  exercises  and  translations  full  of 
faults,  but  written  with  a  neatness,  a  regularity,  and  a 
beauty  charming  to  see.  The  little  Buvat  was  whipped 
every  day  for  the  idleness  of  his  mind,  and  received  the 
writing-prize  every  year  for  the  skill  of  his  hand.  At 
fifteen  years  of  age  he  passed  from  the  "  Epitome  Sacrse," 


GOODMAN  BUVAT.  165 

which  he  had  recommenced  five  times,  to  the  "  Epitome 
Grsecse  ; "  but  the  professor  soon  perceived  that  this  was 
too  much  for  him,  and  put  him  back  for  another  course  in 
the  "Epitome  Sacrse."  Passive  as  he  appeared,  young 
Buvat  was  not  wanting  in  a  certain  pride.  He  came 
home  in  the  evening,  crying,  to  his  mother,  complained 
to  her  of  the  injustice  which  had  been  done  him,  and 
disclosed,  in  his  grief,  a  fact  which  till  then  he  had  been 
careful  not  to  confess ;  namely,  that  there  were  in  the 
school  children  ten  years  old  more  advanced  than  he  was. 

Widow  Buvat,  who  had  seen  her  son  start  every  morn- 
ing with  his  exercises  perfectly  neat,  which  was  enough 
to  make  her  believe  that  there  could  be  no  fault  in  them, 
went  the  next  day  to  abuse  the  good  fathers.  They  re- 
plied that  her  son  was  a  good  boy,  incapable  of  an  evil 
thought  toward  God  or  a  bad  action  toward  his  neighbor ; 
but  that  at  the  same  time  he  was  so  stupid  that  they 
must  advise  her  to  develop,  by  making  him  a  writing  - 
master,  the  only  talent  with  which  Nature  had  blessed 
him. 

This  counsel  was  a  ray  of  light  for  Madame  Buvat ;  she 
understood  that  if  she  acted  on  this  advice  the  benefit 
she  would  derive  from  her  son  would  be  immediate.  She 
came  back  to  her  house,  and  communicated  to  him  the 
new  plans  she  had  formed  for  him.  Young  Buvat  saw  in 
this  only  a  means  of  escaping  the  castigation  which  he 
received  every  morning,  for  which  the  prize,  bound  in 
calf,  that  he  received  every  year  was  not  a  sufficient  com- 
pensation. He  received  the  propositions  of  his  mother 
with  great  joy,  promised  her  that  before  six  months  were 
over  he  would  be  the  first  writing-master  in  the  capital, 
and  the  same  day,  after  having,  from  his  little  savings, 
bought  a  knife  with  four  blades,  a  packet  of  quills,  and 
two  copy-books,  set  himself  to  the  work. 


166  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

The  good  Oratorians  were  not  deceived  as  to  the  true 
vocation  of  young  Buvat.  Caligraphy  was  with  him  an 
art  almost  equal  to  that  of  drawing.  At  the  end  of  six 
months,  like  the  ape  in  the  "Arabian  Nights,"  he  wrote 
six  kinds  of  writing,  and  imitated  men's  faces,  trees,  and 
animals.  At  the  end  of  a  year  he  had  made  such  progress 
that  he  thought  he  might  now  give  out  his  prospectus. 
He  worked  at  it  for  three  months,  day  and  night,  and 
almost  lost  his  sight  over  it.  At  the  end  of  that  time  he 
had  accomplished  a  masterpiece. 

It  was  not  a  simple  writing,  but  a  real  picture,  repre- 
senting the  creation  of  the  world,  and  divided  somewhat 
like  "  The  Transfiguration "  of  Raphael.  In  the  upper 
part,  devoted  to  Eden,  was  the  Eternal  Father  drawing 
Eve  from  the  side  of  the  sleeping  Adam,  and  surrounded 
by  those  animals  which  the  nobility  of  their  nature  brings 
near  to  man,  such  as  the  lion,  the  horse,  and  the  dog.  At 
the  bottom  was  the  sea,  in  the  depths  of  which  were  to  be 
seen  swimming  the  most  fantastic  fishes,  and  which  bore 
on  its  surface  a  superb  three-decked  vessel.  On  the  two 
sides,  trees  full  of  birds  put  the  heavens,  which  they 
touched  with  their  topmost  branches,  in  communication 
with  the  earth,  which  they  grasped  with  their  roots;  and 
in  the  space  left  in  the  middle  of  all  this,  in  a  perfectly 
horizontal  line,  and  reproduced  in  six  different  writings, 
was  the  adverb  impitoyablement. 

This  time  the  artist  had  not  misdirected  his  efforts ;  the 
picture  produced  the  effect  which  he  expected.  A  week 
afterward  young  Buvat  had  five  male  and  two  female 
scholars.  His  reputation  increased  ;  and  Madame  Buvat, 
after  some  years  passed  in  greater  ease  than  she  had 
known  even  in  her  husband's  lifetime,  had  the  satisfac- 
tion of  dying  perfectly  secure  about  her  son's  future. 

As  to  him,  after  having  sufficiently  mourned  his  mother, 


GOODMAN  BUVAT.  167 

he  pursued  a  course  of  life  so  exactly  regulated  that  each 
day  was  like  all  others.  He  arrived  thus  at  the  age  of 
twenty-six  or  twenty-seven,  having  passed  the  stormy 
part  of  existence  in  an  unbroken  tranquillity  due  to  his 
innocent  and  virtuous  good-nature.  It  was  about  this 
time  that  the  worthy  man  found  an  opportunity  of  doing 
a  sublime  action,  which  he  performed  instinctively  and 
simply,  as  he  did  everything ;  while  perhaps  a  man  of 
superior  intelligence  would  have  passed  it  over  without 
seeing  'it,  or  turned  away  from  it  if  he  had  seen  it. 

There  was,  on  the  first  floor  of  the  house  No.  6,  in  the 
Rue  des  Orties,  of  which  Buvat  occupied  the  attic,  a 
young  couple  who  were  the  admiration  of  the  whole 
quarter  for  the  harmony  in  which  they  lived.  They  ap- 
peared made  for  each  other.  The  husband  was  a  man  of 
from  thirty-four  to  thirty-five  years  of  age,  of  a  Southern 
origin,  with  black  eyes,  beard,  and  hair,  dark  complexion, 
and  teeth  like  pearls.  He  was  called  Albert  du  Rocher, 
and  was  the  son  of  an  ancient  Cevenol  chief,  who  had 
been  forced  to  turn  Catholic,  with  all  his  family,  under 
the  persecutions  of  Monsieur  Baville ;  and  half  from  oppo- 
sition, half  because  youth  seeks  youth,  he  had  entered  the 
household  of  Monsieur  le  Due  de  Chartres,  which  was  just 
at  that  time  reconstructed,  having  suffered  much  in  the 
campaign  preceding  the  battle  of  Steenkerke,  where  the 
prince  had  made  his  debut  in  arms.  Du  Rocher  had  ob- 
tained the  place  of  La  JSTeuville,  who  had  been  killed 
in  that  charge  which,  conducted  by  the  Due  de  Chartres, 
had  decided  the  victory. 

The  winter  had  interrupted  the  campaign ;  but  in  the 
spring  Monsieur  de  Luxembourg  had  recalled  all  those 
officers  who  divided  their  lives  between  war  and  pleasure. 
The  Due  de  Chartres,  always  eager  to  draw  a  sword  which 
the  jealousy  of  Louis  XIV.  had  so  often  replaced  in  the 


168 

scabbard,  was  one  of  the  first  to  answer  this  appeal.  Du 
Eocher  followed  him  with  all  the  rest  of  his  military 
household. 

The  great  day  of  Nerwinden  arrived.  The  Due  de 
Chartres  had,  as  usual,  the  command  of  the  guards  ;  as 
usual,  he  charged  at  their  head,  and  so  furiously  that  five 
times  he  found  himself  almost  alone  in  the  midst  of  the 
enemy.  On  the  fifth  of  these  occasions  he  found  himself 
supported  by  but  one  person,  —  a  young  man  whom  he 
scarcely  knew.  In  the  rapid  glance  which  he  cast  on  him 
he  saw  that  this  young  man  was  one  on  whom  he  could 
depend ;  and  therefore,  instead  of  yielding,  as  a  brigadier 
of  the  enemy's  army  who  had  recognized  him  proposed  to 
him,  he  blew  out  the  brigadier's  brains  with  his  pistol. 
At  the  same  instant  two  shots  were  fired,  one  of  which 
took  off  the  prince's  hat,  and  the  other  turned  from  the 
handle  of  his  sword.  Scarcely  had  these  two  shots  been 
fired  when  those  who  had  discharged  them  fell  simulta- 
neously, thrown  down  by  the  prince's  companion,  —  one 
by  a  sabre-stroke,  the  other  by  a  bullet.  A  general  dis- 
charge of  musketry  was  aimed  at  these  two  men,  who,  hap- 
pily, or  rather  miraculously,  were  not  hit.  The  prince's 
horse,  however,  mortally  wounded  in  the  head,  fell  under 
him.  The  young  man  who  was  with  him  jumped  from 
his,  and  offered  it  to  him. 

The  prinCe  hesitated  to  accept  this  service,  which  might 
cost  him  who  rendered  it  so  dear ;  but  the  young  man, 
who  was  tall  and  powerful,  thinking  that  this  was  not 
a  moment  to  exchange  politenesses,  took  the  prince  in  his 
arms  and  forced  him  into  the  saddle.  At  this  moment, 
Monsieur  d'Arcy,  who  arrived  with  a  detachment  of  light- 
horse,  came  up  with  him  just  as,  in  spite  of  their  courage, 
the  prince  and  his  companion  were  about  to  be  killed  or 
taken.     Both  were  without  wound,  although  the  prince 


GOODMAN  BUVAT.  169 

had  received  four  bullets  in  his  clothes.  The  Due  de 
Chartres  held  out  his  hand  to  his  companion,  and  asked 
him  who  he  was ;  for  although  his  face  was  known  to 
him,  he  had  been  so  short  a  time  in  his  service  that  he 
did  not  remember  his  name.  The  young  man  replied 
that  he  was  called  Albert  du  Rocher,  and  that  he  had 
taken  the  place  of  La  Neuville,  who  was  killed  at 
Steenkerke. 

Then,  turning  toward  those  who  had  just  arrived, 
**  Gentlemen,"  said  the  prince,  "  you  have  prevented  me 
from  being  taken ;  but  this  gentleman,"  pointing  to  Du 
Rocher,  "has  saved  me  from  being  killed." 

At  the  end  of  the  campaign,  the  Due  de  Chartres  named 
Du  Rocher  his  first  equerry,  and,  three  years  afterward, 
having  continued  the  grateful  affection  which  he  had 
vowed  to  him,  he  married  him  to  a  young  person  whom 
he  loved,  and  gave  her  a  dowry.  Unfortunately,  as  Mon- 
sieur le  Due  de  Chartres  was  still  but  a  young  man,  this 
dowry  was  not  large ;  but  he  promised  to  take  charge  of 
the  advancement  of  his  protege. 

This  young  person  whom  Du  Rocher  married  was 
of  English  origin ;  her  mother  had  accompanied  Madam 
Henrietta  when  she  came  to  France  to  marry  Monsieur. 
And  after  that  princess  had  been  poisoned  by  the  Cheva- 
lier d'Efnat,  she  had  passed,  as  lady-in-waiting,  into  the 
service  of  the  Grande  Dauphine;  but  in  1690  the  Grande 
Dauphine  died,  and  the  Englishwoman,  in  her  insular 
pride,  refused  to  stay  with  Mademoiselle  Choin,  and  re- 
tired to  a  little  country-house  which  she  hired  near  St. 
Cloud,  where  she  gave  herself  up  entirely  to  the  education 
of  her  little  Clarice.  It  was  in  the  journeys  of  the  Due 
de  Chartres  to  St.  Cloud  that  Du  Rocher  made  acquaint- 
ance with  this  young  girl,  whom,  as  we  have  said,  he 
married  in  1697. 


170  LE   CHEVALIER   D'HARMENTAL. 

It  was,  then,  tins  young  couple  who  occupied  the  first 
floor  of  the  house  of  which  Buvat  had  the  attic.  They 
had  first  a  son,  whose  caligraphic  education  was  confided 
to  Buvat  from  the  age  of  four  years.  The  young  pupil 
was  making  the  most  satisfactory  progress  when  he  was 
carried  off  by  the  measles.  The  despair  of  the  parents 
was  great;  Buvat  shared  it,  the  more  sincerely  because 
his  pupil  had  exhibited  a  most  docile  disposition.  This 
sympathy  for  their  grief  on  the  part  of  a  stranger 
attached  them  to  him  ;  and  one  day,  when  the  good  man 
was  complaining  of  the  precarious  future  of  artists,  Albert 
du  Rocher  promised  to  use  his  influence  to  procure  him 
a  place  in  the  government  library.  Buvat  jumped  with 
joy  at  the  idea  of  becoming  a  public  functionary.  That 
very  day  his  application  was  forwarded,  in  his  best  chi- 
rography,  and  a  month  later  he  received  an  appointment 
as  employee  in  the  royal  library,  in  the  manuscript  depart- 
ment, with  a  salary  of  nine  hundred  francs  a  year. 

From  this  day  Buvat,  in  the  pride  natural  to  his  new 
position,  neglected  his  scholars,  and  gave  himself  up  en- 
tirely to  the  preparation  of  forms.  Nine  hundred  francs, 
secured  to  the  end  of  his  life,  was  really  a  fortune,  and 
the  worthy  writer,  thanks  to  the  royal  munificence,  began 
to  lead  a  life  of  ease  and  comfort.  He  promised  his  good 
neighbors  that  if  they  had  a  second  child  no  one  but 
himself  should  teach  him  to  write ;  and  the  poor  par- 
ents wished  much  to  give  this  increase  of  occupation  to 
the  worthy  writer.  God  granted  their  wish.  Toward 
the  end  of  the  year  1702  Clarice  was  delivered  of  a 
daughter. 

Great  was  the  joy  through  the  whole  house.  Buvat 
did  not  feel  at  all  at  his  ease  ;  he  ran  up  and  down  stairs, 
beating  his  thighs  with  his  hands,  and  singing  below  his 
breath  the  refrain  of  his  favorite  song,  — 


GOODMAN  BUVAT.  171 

"  Then  let  me  go 
And  let  me  play,"  etc. 

That  day,  for  the  first  time  since  he  had  been  appointed,  — 
that  is  to  say,  during  two  years,  —  he  arrived  at  his  office 
at  a  quarter  past  ten,  instead  of  ten  o'clock  exactly.  A 
supernumerary,  who  thought  that  he  must  be  dead,  had 
asked  for  his  place. 

The  little  Bathilde  was  not  a  week  old  when  Buvat 
wished  to  begin  teaching  her  the  strokes  and  pot-hooks, 
saying  that  to  learn  a  thing  well,  it  is  necessary  to  begin 
young.  It  was  with  the  greatest  difficulty  that  he  was 
made  to  understand  tfiat  he  must  wait  till  she  was  at 
least  two  or  three  years  old.  He  resigned  himself;  but 
in  anticipation  of  that  time  he  set  about  preparing  copies. 
At  the  end  of  three  years  Clarice  kept  her  word;  and 
Buvat  had  the  satisfaction  of  solemnly  putting  her  first 
pen  into  the  hands  of  Bathilde. 

It  was  the  beginning  of  the  year  1707;  and  the  Due 
de  Chartres  had  become  Due  d'Or leans  by  the  death  of 
Monsieur,  and  had  at  last  obtained  a  command  in  Spain, 
whither  he  was  to  conduct  troops  to  the  Marechal  de 
Berwick.  Orders  were  directly  given  to  all  his  military 
household  to  hold  themselves  in  readiness  by  the  5th  of 
March.  As  first  equerry,  it  was  necessary  that  Albert 
should  accompany  the  prince.  This  news,  which  formerly 
would  have  given  him  the  highest  joy,  made  him  now 
almost  sad,  for  the  health  Of  Clarice  began  to  fill  him 
with  the  greatest  uneasiness ;  the  doctor  had  allowed  the 
word  "consumption"  to  escape  him.  Whether  Clarice 
felt  herself  seriously  attacked,  or  whether,  more  natural 
still,  she  feared  only  for  her  husband,  her  burst  of  grief 
was  so  wild  that  Albert  himself  could  not  help  crying 
with  her.  Little  Bathilde  and  Buvat  cried  because  they 
saw  the  others  cry. 


172  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

The  5th  of  March  arrived ;  it  was  the  day  fixed  for  the 
departure.  In  spite  of  her  grief,  Clarice  had  busied  her- 
self with  her  husband's  outfit,  and  had  tried  to  make  it 
worthy  of  the  prince  whom  he  accompanied ;  and  there- 
fore in  the  midst  of  her  tears  a  ray  of  proud  joy  shone 
on  her  face  when  she  saw  Albert,  in  his  elegant  uniform, 
upon  his  noble  war-horse.  As  to  Albert,  he  was  full  of 
hope  and  pride.  The  poor  wife  smiled  sadly  at  his  dreams 
of  the  future  ;  but  in  order  not  to  dispirit  him  at  this  last 
moment,  she  shut  up  her  grief  in  her  own  heart,  and  sub-, 
duing  the  fears  which  she  had  for  him,  and  perhaps  also 
other  fears  which  she  felt  on  her  own  account,  she  was  the 
first  to  say  to  him,  "  Think  not  of  me,  but  of  your  honor." 

The  Due  d'Orleans  and  his  army  entered  Catalonia  in 
the  first  days  of  April,  and  advanced  directly,  by  forced 
marches,  across  Arragon.  On  arriving  at  Segorbe,  the 
duke  learned  that  the  Marechal  de  Berwick  held  himself 
in  readiness  for  a  decisive  battle.  In  his  eagerness  to 
arrive  in  time  to  take  part  in  the  action,  he  sent  Albert 
on  at  full  speed,  charging  him  to  tell  the  marshal  that 
the  Due  d'Orleans  was  coming  to  his  aid  with  ten  thou- 
sand men,  and  to  pray  that  if  it  did  not  interfere  with 
his  arrangements,  he  would  wait  for  him  before  joining 
battle. 

Albert  started  on  his  mission ;  but  bewildered  in  the 
mountains,  and  misled  by  ignorant  guides,  he  was  only  a 
day  before  the  army,  and  arrived  at  the  marshal's  camp 
at  the  very  moment  when  the'  engagement  was  about  to 
begin.  Albert  asked  where  the  marshal  was ;  they  showed 
his  position,  on  the  left  of  the  army,  on  a  little  hill,  from 
which  he  overlooked  the  whole  plain.  The  Due  de  Ber- 
wick was  there,  surrounded  by  his  staff;  Albert  put  his 
horse  to  the  gallop,  and  made  straight  toward  him. 

The  messenger  introduced  himself  to  the  marshal  and 


GOODMAN  BUVAT.  173 

told  him  the  cause  of  his  coming.  The  marshal  replied 
by  pointing  to  the  field  of  battle,  and  told  him  to  return 
to  the  prince,  and  report  to  him  what  he  had  seen  ;  but 
Albert  had  smelt  powder,  and  was  not  willing  to  leave 
thus.  He  asked  permission  to  wait  till  he  could  at  least 
give  him  the  news  of  a  victory.  The  marshal  consented. 
At  that  moment  a  charge  of  dragoons  seemed  necessary 
to  the  marshal ;  he  told  one  of  his  aids  to  carry  the  order 
to  charge  to  the  colonel.  The  young  man  started  at  a 
gallop,  but  he  had  scarcely  gone  a  third  of  the  distance 
which  separated  the  hill  from  the  position  of  the  regi- 
ment, when  his  head  was  carried  off  by  a  cannon-ball. 
He  had  not  yet  fallen  from  his  stirrups  when  Albert, 
seizing  this  occasion  to  take  part  in  the  battle,  set  spurs 
to  his  horse,  transmitted  the  order  to  the  colonel,  and 
instead  of  returning  to  the  marshal,  drew  his  sword,  and 
charged  at  the  head  of  the  regiment. 

This  charge  was  one  of  the  most  brilliant  of  the  day, 
and  penetrated  so  completely  to  the  heart  of  the  imperial 
guard  that  they  began  to  give  way.  The  marshal  had 
involuntarily  watched  the  young  officer  throughout  the 
melee,  recognizing  him  by  his  uniform.  He  saw  him 
arrive  at  the  enemy's  colors  and  engage  in  a  personal 
contest  with  the  standard-bearer;  then,  when  the  regi- 
ment had  taken  flight,  he  saw  him  returning  with  his 
trophy  in  his  arms.  On  reaching  the  marshal,  he  threw 
the  colors  at  his  feet,  and  tried  to  speak  j  but  instead  of 
words,  blood  came  to  his  lips.  The  marshal  saw  him 
totter  in  his  saddle,  and  advanced  to  support  him,  but 
before  he  had  time  to  do  so,  Albert  had  fallen ;  a  ball 
had  pierced  his  breast.  The  marshal  sprang  from  his 
horse ;  but  the  brave  young  man  lay  dead  on  the  stand- 
ard he  had  won  from  the  enemv^ 

The  Due  d'Orleans  arrived  the  day  after  the   battle. 


174  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

He  regretted  Albert  as  one  regrets  a  gallant  man;  but 
after  all,  he  had  died  the  death  of  the  brave,  in  the 
midst  of  victory,  and  on  the  colors  he  himself  had  taken. 
What  more  could  be  desired  by  a  Frenchman,  a  soldier, 
and  a  gentleman? 

The  duke  wrote  with  his  own  hand  to  the  poor  widow. 
If  anything  could  console  a  wife  for  the  death  of  her 
husband,  doubtless  it  would  be  such  a  letter;  but  poor 
Clarice  thought  of  but  two  things,  —  that  she  had  no 
longer  a  husband,  and  that  her  child  had  no  longer  a, 
father.  At  four  o'clock  Buvat  came  in  from  the  library  ; 
they  told  him  that  Clarice  wanted  him,  and  he  went 
down  directly.  The  poor  woman  did  not  cry,  she  did 
not  complain ;  she  stood  tearless  and  speechless,  her  eyes 
fixed  and  hollow  as  those  of  a  maniac.  When  Buvat 
entered,  she  did  not  even  turn  her  head  toward  him,  but 
holding  out  her  hand,  she  presented  to  him  the  letter. 
Buvat  looked,  with  an  air  of  bewilderment,  to  the  right 
and  to  the  left,  trying  to  discover  what  was  the  matter, 
but  seeing  nothing  to  direct  his  conjectures,  he  looked 
at  the  paper  and  read  aloud :  — 

Madame,  —  Your  husband  has  died  for  France  and  for  me. 
Neither  France  nor  I  can  give  you  back  your  husband,  but 
remember  that  if  ever  you  are  in  want  of  anything  we  are 
both  your  debtors.  Your  affectionate 

Philippe  d'Orleans. 

"  What ! "  cried  Buvat,  fixing  his  great  eyes  on  Clarice, 
*  Monsieur  du  Rocher  ]     It  is  not  possible  !  " 

"  Papa  is  dead  1 "  said  little  Bathilde,  leaving  the  corner 
where  she  was  playing  with  her  doll,  and  running  to  her 
mother.     "Mamma,  is  it  true  that  Papa  is  dead?" 

"Alas!  yes,  my  dear  child  ! "  cried  Clarice,  finding  at 
once  words  and  tears,  "  Oh,  yes,  it  is  true  ;  it  is  but  too 
true  !     Oh,  how  unhappy  we  are  !  " 


GOODMAN  BUVAT.  175 

"Madame,"  said  Buvat,  whose  dull  imagination  was 
slow  in  finding  consolations  to  suggest,  "you  must  not 
grieve  thus ;  perhaps  it  is  a  false  report." 

"  Do  you  not  see  that  the  letter  is  from  the  Due  d'Or- 
leans  himself?"  cried  the  poor  widow.  "Yes,  my  child, 
your  father  is  dead.  Weep,  my  child ;  perhaps  in  seeing 
your  tears,  God  will  have  pity  on  me."  While  speaking 
thus,  the  poor  woman  coughed  so  painfully  that  Buvat 
felt  his  own  breast  torn  by  it ;  but  his  fright  was  still 
greater  when  he  saw  that  the  handkerchief  which  she 
drew  from  her  mouth  was  covered  with  blood.  Then  he 
understood  that  a  greater  misfortune  threatened  Bathilde 
than  that  which  had  just  befallen  her. 

The  apartments  which  Clarice  occupied  were  now  too 
large  for  her.  No  one  was  astonished  when  she  left  them 
for  smaller  ones  on  the  second  floor. 

Aside  from  her  grief,  which  dulled  her  other  faculties, 
Clarice  felt,  in  common  with  all  other  noble  hearts,  a  cer- 
tain unwillingness  to  ask,  even  from  her  country,  a  recom- 
pense for  the  blood  which  had  been  shed  for  it,  especially 
while  that  blood  was  still  warm.  The  poor  widow  hesi- 
tated, therefore,  to  present  herself  to  the  minister  of  war 
to  present  her  claims.  At  the  end  of  three  months,  when 
she  took  courage  to  make  the  first  steps,  the  taking  of 
Eequena  and  that  of  Saragossa  had  already  thrown  into 
the  shade  the  battle  of  Almanza.  Clarice  showed  the 
prince's  letter.  The  minister's  secretary  replied  that  with 
such  a  letter  she  could  not  fail  in  obtaining  what  she 
wanted,  but  that  she  must  wait  for  his  Highness's  return. 
Clarice  looked  in  a  glass  at  her  emaciated  face,  and  smiled 
sadly. 

"  Wait ! "  said  she ;  "  yes,  it  would  be  better,  I  admit ; 
but  God  knows  if  I  shall  have  the  time." 

The  result  of  this  repulse  was  that  Clarice  left  her  lodg- 


176  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

ing  on  the  second  floor  for  two  little  rooms  on  the  third. 
The  poor  widow  had  no  other  fortune  than  her  husband's 
savings.  The  little  dowry  which  the  duke  had  given  her 
had  disappeared  in  the  purchase  of  furniture  and  her  hus- 
band's outfit.  As  the  new  lodging  which  she  took  was 
much  smaller  than  the  other,  no  one  was  astonished  that 
Clarice  sold  part  of  her  furniture. 

The  return  of  the  Due  d'Orleans  was  expected  in  the 
autumn,  and  Clarice  counted  on  this  to  ameliorate  her 
situation ;  but  contrary  to  all  the  strategic  customs  of 
that  period,  the  army,  instead  of  going  into  winter  quar- 
ters, continued  the  campaign,  and  news  arrived  that  in- 
stead of  returning,  the  duke  was  about  to  lay  siege  to 
Lerida.  Now,  in  1647,  the  great  Conde  himself  had 
failed  before  Lerida;  and  the  new  siege,  even  supposing 
that  it  ever  came  to  a  successful  issue,  threatened  to  be 
wofully  prolonged. 

Clarice  risked  some  new  advances.  This  time  they  had 
forgotten  even  her  husband's  name.  She  again  had  re- 
course to  the  prince's  letter,  which  had  its  ordinary  effect ; 
but  they  told  her  that  after  the  siege  of  Lerida  the  duke 
could  not  fail  to  return,  and  the  poor  widow  was  again 
obliged  to  wait. 

She  left  her  two  rooms  for  a  little  attic  opposite  that  of 
Buvat,  and  she  sold  the  rest  of  her  furniture,  keeping  only 
a  table,  some  chairs,  Bathilde's  little  cot,  and  a  bed  for 
herself. 

Buvat  had  seen,  without  taking  much  notice,  these 
frequent  removals ;  and  although  he  was  not  very  sharp, 
it  was  not  difficult  for  him  to  understand  his  neighbor's 
situation.  Buvat,  who  was  a  careful  man,  had  some  sav- 
ings which  he  earnestly  wished  to  put  at  his  neighbor's 
disposal  ;  but  Clarice's  pride  increased  with  her  poverty, 
niul  poor  Buvat  had  never  yet  dared  to  make  the  offer. 


GOODMAN  BUVAT.  177 

Twenty  times  he  had  gone  to  her  with  a  little  package 
which  contained  his  entire  fortune,  —  that  is  to  say,  fifty 
or  sixty  louis,  —  but  every  time  he  left  without  having 
dared  to  take  it  out  of  his  pocket.  But  one  day  it  hap- 
pened that  Buvat,  descending  to  go  to  business,  having 
met  the  landlord  making  his  quarterly  round,  and  think- 
ing that  his  neighbor  might  be  embarrassed  even  for  so 
small  a  sum,  took  the  proprietor  into  his  own  room,  say- 
ing that  the  day  before  Madame  du  Kocher  had  given  him 
the  money,  that  he  might  get  both  receipts  at  once.  The 
landlord,  who  had  feared  a  delay  on  the  part  of  his  tenant, 
did  not  care  whence  the  money  came,  and  willingly  gave 
the  two  receipts. 

Buvat,  in  the  naivete  of  his  soul,  was  tormented  by  this 
good  action  as  by  a  crime.  For  three  or  four  days  he  did 
not  venture  to  present  himself  to  his  neighbor,  so  that 
when  he  returned  he  found  her  considerably  concerned 
for  what  she  thought  an  act  of  indifference  on  his  part. 
Buvat  found  Clarice  so  much  changed  during  those  four 
days  that  he  went  out  from  her  presence  shaking  his  head 
and  wiping  his  eyes ;  and  for  the  first  time  he  went  to  bed 
without  having  sung,  during  the  fifteen  turns  he  generally 
took  in  his  bedroom,  — 

"  Then  let  me  go, 
And  let  me  play,"  etc., 

which  was  a  proof  of  melancholy  preoccupation. 

The  last  days  of  winter  passed,  and  brought,  in  passing, 
the  news  that  Lerida  had  surrendered ;  but  at  the  same  time 
it  was  announced  that  the  young  and  indefatigable  gen- 
eral was  about  to  besiege  Tortosa.  This  was  the  last  blow 
for  poor  Clarice.  She  understood  that  spring  was  coming, 
and  with  it  a  new  campaign,  which  would  retain  the  duke 
with  the  army.  Strength  failed  her,  and  she  was  obliged 
to  take  to  her  bed. 

12 


178  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

The  position  of  Clarice  was  frightful.  She  did  not  de- 
ceive herself  as  to  her  illness.  She  felt  that  it  was  mor- 
tal ;  and  she  had  no  one  in  the  world  to  whom  she  could 
commit  her  child.  The  poor  woman  feared  death,  not  on 
her  own  account,  but  on  her  daughter's,  who  would  not 
have  even  the  stone  of  her  mother's  tomb  to  rest  her  head 
on ;  for  the  unfortunate  have  no  tomb.  Her  husband 
had  only  distant  relatives,  from  whom  she  could  not  and 
would  not  solicit  aid.  As  to  her  own  family,  she  —  born 
in  France,  where  her  mother  died  —  had  not  even  known 
them  ;  besides,  she  understood  that  if  there  were  any  hope 
from  that  quarter,  there  was  no  longer  the  time  to  seek  it. 
Death  was  approaching. 

One  night  Buvat,  who  the  evening  before  had  left 
Clarice  devoured  by  fever,  heard  her  groaning  so  heavily 
that  he  jumped  from  his  bed  and  dressed  himself  to  go 
and  offer  her  help  ;  but  on  arriving  at  the  door,  he  did  not 
dare  to  enter  or  to  knock.  Clarice  was  sobbing  and  pray- 
ing aloud.  At  this  moment  Bathilde  woke  and  called  her 
mother.  Clarice  drove  back  her  tears,  took  her  child 
from  the  cradle,  and  placing  her  on  her  knees  on  her 
own  bed,  made  her  repeat  what  prayers  she  knew,  and 
after  each  of  them  Buvat  heard  her  cry  in  a  sad 
voice,  — 

"  Oh,  my  God  !  my  God  !  listen  to  my  poor  child  !  " 

There  was  in  this  nocturnal  scene  —  the  child  scarcely 
out  of  the  cradle,  and  the  mother  halfway  to  the  grave, 
both  in  the  silence  of  night  addressing  the  Lord  as  their 
only  support  —  something  so  deeply  sad  that  good  Buvat 
fell  on  his  knees,  and  inwardly  swore,  what  he  had  not 
dared  to  promise  openly,  that  though  Bathilde  might  be 
an  orphan,  yet  she  should  not  be  abandoned.  God  had 
heard  the  prayers  which  had  ascended  to  Him,  and  He 
had  granted  them. 


GOODMAN  BUVAT.  179 

The  next  day  Buvat  did  what  he  had  never  dared  to  do 
before.  He  took  Bathilde  in  his  arms,  rested  his  good- 
natured,  round  face  against  the  charming  little  face  of  the 
child,  and  said  softly,  "  Be  easy,  poor  little  innocent ; 
there  are  yet  good  people  on  the  earth." 

The  little  girl  threw  her  arms  round  his  neck  and  kissed 
him.  Buvat  felt  that  the  tears  stood  in  his  eyes,  and  as 
he  had  often  heard  that  one  must  not  cry  before  sick  peo- 
ple, for  fear  of  agitating  them,  he  drew  out  his  watch,  and 
said  in  a  gruff  voice  to  conceal  his  emotion,  "  Ahem !  it 
is  a  quarter  to  ten;  I  must  go.  Good-day,  Madame  du 
Rocher." 

On  the  staircase  he  met  the  doctor,  and  asked  him 
what  he  thought  of  the  patient.  As  this  was  a  doctor 
who  came  through  charity,  and  did  not  consider  himself 
at  all  bound  to  be  considerate,  since  he  was  not  paid,  he 
replied  that  in  three  days  she  would  be  dead. 

Coming  back  at  four  o'clock,  Buvat  found  the  whole 
house  in  commotion.  The  doctor  had  said  that  they  must 
send  for  the  viaticum.  They  had  therefore  summoned  the 
cure,  and  he  had  arrived,  and  preceded  by  the  sacristan 
and  his  little  bell,  he  had  without  any  preparation  entered 
the  sick  room.  Clarice  had  received  him  as  she  would 
have  received  the  Lord,  —  that  is  to  say,  with  her  hands 
joined,  and  her  eyes  turned  toward  heaven  ;  but  the  im- 
pression produced  on  her  was  not  the  less  terrible.  Buvat 
heard  singing,  and  conjectured  what  must  have  happened. 
He  went  up  directly  and  found  the  landing  and  the  door 
of  the  sick  room  thronged  by  the  gossips  of  the  neighbor- 
hood, who,  as  was  the  custom  at  that  time,  had  followed 
the  holy  sacrament.  Round  the  bed  of  the  dying  woman, 
who  was  already  so  pale  and  motionless  that  but  for  the 
tears  that  ran  down  her  cheeks  she  might  have  been  taken 
for  a  marble  statue  lying  on  a  tomb,  the  priests  were  in- 


180  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

toning  the  prayers  for  the  dying,  and  in  a  corner  of  the 
room  the  little  Bathilde  —  whom  they  had  separated  from 
her  mother,  that  the  attention  of  the  patient  might  not  be 
distracted  during  her  last  act  of  religion  —  was  seated 
on  the  ground,  not  daring  to  cry,  frightened  at  seeing  so 
many  persons  whom  she  did  not  know,  and  hearing  so 
much  that  she  did  not  understand. 

As  soon  as  she  saw  Buvat,  the  child  ran  to  him  as  the 
only  person  she  knew  in  this  grave  assembly.  Buvat 
took  her  in  his  arms,  and  knelt  with  her  near  the  bed  of 
the  dying  woman.  At  this  moment  Clarice  lowered  her 
eyes  from  the  heavens  toward  the  earth.  Without  doubt 
she  had  been  addressing  to  God  her  constant  prayer  that 
he  would  send  a  protector  to  her  daughter.  She  saw 
Bathilde  in  the  arms  of  the  only  friend  she  had  in  the 
world.  With  the  penetrating  glance  of  the  dying  she 
read  this  pure  and  devoted  heart,  and  in  that  moment 
understood  all  that  he  had  not  dared  to  tell  her.  She 
sat  up  in  bed  and  held  out  her  hand  to  him,  uttering 
a  cry  of  gratitude  and  joy,  such  as  the  angels  only  can 
understand ;  and  as  if  she  had  exhausted  her  remaining 
strength  in  this  maternal  outburst,  she  sank  back  faint- 
ing on  the  bed. 

The  religious  ceremony  was  finished.  The  priests  re- 
tired first,  then  the  devotees  followed ;  the  indifferent 
and  curious  were  the  last  to  leave.  Among  these  were 
several  women.  Buvat  asked  if  there  was  none  among 
them  who  knew  a  good  sick -nurse.  One  of  them  presented 
herself  directly,  and  declared,  in  the  midst  of  a  chorus 
of  her  companions,  that  she  had  all  the  necessary  virtues 
for  this  honorable  situation,  but  that  on  account  of  these 
good  qualities,  she  was  accustomed  to  be  paid  a  week  in 
advance,  as  she  was  much  sought  after  in  the  neighbor- 
hood.    Buvat   asked   what   her  charge  was  for  a  week. 


GOODMAN  BUVAT.  181 

She  replied  that  to  any  other  it  would  be  sixteen  francs, 
but  as  the  poor  lady  did  not  seem  rich,  she  would  be  con- 
tented with  twelve.  Buvat,  who  had  just  received  his 
month's  pay,  took  two  crowns  from  his  pocket  and  gave 
them  to  her  without  bargaining.  He  would  have  given 
double  if  she  had  asked  it.  This  unexpected  generosity 
gave  rise  to  many  conjectures,  some  of  which  were  not 
complimentary  to  the  dying  woman ;  so  true  is  it  that 
a  good  deed  is  a  thing  so  rare  that  when  it  appears  to 
the  eyes  of  men  those  who  are  shamed  by  it  must  always 
ascribe  it  to  an  impure  or  selfish  motive. 

Clarice  was  still  fainting.  The  nurse  entered  on  her 
duty  at  once,  and  for  want  of  salts  gave  her  vinegar  to 
inhale.  Buvat  retired.  As  to  Bathilde,  she  had  been 
told  that  her  mother  was  asleep.  The  poor  child  did 
not  yet  know  the  difference  between  sleep  and  death, 
and  returned  to  her  corner  to  play  with  her  doll. 

At  the  end  of  an  hour  Buvat  returned  to  ask  news  of 
Clarice.  She  had  recovered  from  her  fainting,  but  though 
her  eyes  were  open,  she  did  not  speak.  However,  she 
recognized  him,  for  as  soon  as  he  entered  she  joined  her 
hands  as  if  to  pray,  and  then  she  appeared  to  seek  for 
something  under  her  bolster.  But  the  effort  she  made 
was  too  great,  and  she  fell  back  motionless  upon  her 
pillow. 

The  nurse  shook  her  head,  and  approaching  the  patient, 
"  Your  pillow  is  all  right,"  she  said ;  "  you  must  not  dis- 
arrange it."  Then  turning  to  Buvat,  "Ah,  these  sick 
people  ! n  she  added,  shrugging  her  shoulders  ;  "  they  are 
always  fancying  that  there  is  something  making  them 
uncomfortable  ;  it  is  death,  only  they  do  not  know  it." 

Clarice  sighed  deeply,  but  remained  motionless.  The 
nurse  approached  her,  and  passed  over  her  lips  the  feather 
of  a  quill  dipped  in  a  cordial  of  her  own  invention,  which 


182  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

she  had  just  brought  from  the  apothecary's.  Buvat  could 
not  endure  this  spectacle;  he  recommended  the  mother 
and  child  to  the  care  of  the  nurse,  and  left. 

The  next  day  Clarice  was  still  worse  ;  for  though  her 
eyes  were  open,  she  did  not  seem  to  recognize  any  one 
but  her  daughter,  who  was  lying  near  her  on  the  bed, 
and  whose  little  hand  she  held.  On  her  part,  the  child, 
as  if  she  felt  that  this  was  the  last  maternal  embrace, 
remained  quiet  and  silent.  On  seeing  her  kind  friend, 
she  said  only,  "Mamma  sleeps." 

It  appeared  to  Buvat  that  Clarice  moved,  as  if  she  heard 
and  recognized  her  child's  voice,  but  it  might  have  been 
only  a  nervous  trembling.  He  asked  the  nurse  if  the  sick 
woman  had  wanted  anything.  She  shook  her  head,  say- 
ing, "What  would  be  the  use?  It  would  be  money 
thrown  away.  These  apothecaries  make  quite  enough 
already." 

Buvat  would  have  liked  to  stay  with  Clarice,  for  he  saw 
that  she  had  not  long  to  live  ;  but  he  never  would  have 
thought  of  absenting  himself  for  a  day  from  business  un- 
less he  were  dying  himself.  He  therefore  went  as  usual 
to  the  library,  but  was  so  sad  and  melancholy  that  the 
king  did  not  gain  much  by  his  presence.  His  fellow- 
clerks  remarked  with  astonishment  that  that  day  Buvat 
did  not  wait,  at  four  o'clock,  till  the  clock  had  finished 
striking  to  take  off  the  false  blue  sleeves  which  he  wore 
to  protect  his  coat ;  but  that  at  the  first  stroke  of  the 
clock  he  got  up,  took  his  hat,  and  went  out.  The  super- 
numerary, who  had  already  asked  for  his  place,  watched 
him  as  he  went ;  then,  when  he  had  closed  the  door, 
"  Well,"  said  he,  loud  enough  to  be  heard  by  the  chief, 
"  there  is  one  who  takes  it  easy  ! " 

Buvat's  presentiments  were  confirmed.  On  arriving  at 
the  house,  he  asked  the  portress  how  Clarice  was. 


GOODMAN  BUVAT.  183 

"  Ah,  God  be  thanked  !  "  she  replied;  "  the  poor  woman 
is  happy.     She  suffers  no  more." 

"She  is  dead  !  "  cried  Buvat,  with  the  shudder  always 
produced  by  this  terrible  word. 

"  About  three  quarters  of  an  hour  ago,"  she  replied ; 
and  she  went  on  darning  her  stocking,  and  singing  a 
merry  song  which  she  had  interrupted  to  reply  to  Buvat. 

Buvat  ascended  the  steps  of  the  staircase  one  by  one, 
stopping  frequently  to  wipe  his  forehead ;  then,  on  arriv- 
ing on  the  landing  where  his  room  and  that  of  Clarice 
were  located,  he  was  obliged  to  lean  his  head  against  the 
wall,  for  he  felt  his  legs  giving  way.  He  stood  silent  and 
hesitating,  when  he  thought  he  heard  Bathilde's  voice 
crying.  He  remembered  the  poor  child,  and  this  gave 
him  courage.  At  the  door,  however,  he  stopped  again ; 
then  he  heard  the  groans  of  the  little  girl  more  distinctly. 

"  Mamma,"  cried  the  child,  in  a  little  voice  broken  by 
sobs,  "  will  you  not  wake  1  Mamma,  why  are  you  so 
cold1?"  Then,  running  to  the  door,  and  striking  with 
her  hand,  "  Come,  my  kind  friend,  come  ! "  said  she ;  "  I 
am  alone,  and  I  am  afraid." 

Buvat  was  astonished  that  they  had  not  removed  the 
child  from  her  mother's  room.  The  profound  pity  which 
the  poor  little  creature  inspired  made  him  forget  the  pain- 
ful feeling  which  had  stopped  him  for  a  moment,  and  he 
raised  his  hand  to  open  the  door.  The  door  was  locked. 
At  tliis  moment  he  heard  the  portress  calling  him.  He 
ran  to  the  stairs,  and  asked  her  where  the  key  was. 

"Ah,"  she  replied,  "how  stupid  I  am  !  I  forgot  to  give 
it  to  you  as  you  passed." 

Buvat  ran  down  as  quickly  as  he  could.  "  And  why 
is  the  key  here  1 "  he  asked. 

"  The  landlord  placed  it  here  after  he  had  taken  away 
the  furniture." 


184  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

"  What !  taken  away  the  furniture  1 "  cried  Buvat. 

"Of  course  he  has  taken  away  the  furniture.  Your 
neighbor  was  not  rich,  Monsieur  Buvat,  and  no  doubt  she 
owes  money  on  all  sides.  Ah !  the  landlord  will  not 
stand  tricks.  The  rent  must  be  paid  first;  that  is  but 
fair.  Besides,  she  does  not  want  furniture  any  more, 
poor  dear ! " 

"  But  the  nurse,  where  is  she  1 " 

"  When  she  saw  that  her  patient  was  dead,  she  went 
away;  her  business  was  finished.  But  she  will  come 
back  to  shroud  her,  for  a  crown,  if  you  like.  It  is  gen- 
erally the  portress  who  does  this ;  but  I  cannot,  —  I  am 
too  sensitive." 

Buvat  understood,  shuddering,  all  that  had  occurred. 
He  went  up  as  rapidly  now  as  he  had  gone  slowly  before. 
His  hand  shook  so  that  he  could  scarcely  find  the  lock  ; 
but  at  length  the  key  turned,  and  the  door  opened. 
Clarice  was  extended  on  the  floor  on  the  mattress  out 
of  her  bed,  in  the  middle  of  the  dismantled  room.  An 
old  sheet  was  thrown  over  her,  and  was  intended  to  cover 
her  entirely,  but  little  Bathilde  had  moved  it  to  seek  for 
her  mother's  face,  which  she  was  kissing  when  he  entered. 

"  Ah,  my  friend,"  she  cried,  "  wake  my  mamma,  who 
sleeps  still.  Wake  her,  I  beg  !  M  And  the  child  ran  to 
Buvat,  who,  standing  at  the  entrance  to  the  room,  was 
looking  at  this  pitiable  spectacle. 

Buvat  took  Bathilde  back  to  the  corpse.  "  Kiss  your 
mother  once,  for  the  last  time,  my  poor  child,"  said 
he. 

The  child  obeyed. 

"And  now,"  said  he,  "let  her  sleep.  One  day  God 
will  wake  her ; "  and  he  took  the  child  in  his  arms  and 
carried  her  away.  The  child  made  no  resistance.  She 
seemed  to  understand  her  weakness  and  her  isolation. 


GOODMAN   BUVAT.  185 

He  put  her  in  his  own  bed,  for  they  had  carried  away- 
even  the  child's  cot ;  and  when  she  was  asleep,  he  went 
out  to  give  information  of  the  death  to  the  commissary 
of  the  quarter,  and  to  make  arrangements  for  the  funeral. 

When  he  returned,  the  portress  gave  him  a  paper,  which 
the  nurse  had  found  in  Clarice's  hand.  Buvat  opened  it 
and  recognized  the  letter  from  the  Due  d'Orleans.  This 
was  the  sole  inheritance  which  the  poor  mother  ha4  left 
to  her  daughter. 


186  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

BATHILDE. 

In  going  to  make  his  declaration  to  the  commissary  of 
the  quarter  and  his  arrangements  for  the  funeral,  Buvat, 
had  not  forgotten  to  look  for  a  woman  who  could  take 
care  of  little  Bathilde,  an  office  which  he  could  not 
undertake  himself,  —  firstly,  because  he  was  entirely 
ignorant  of  its  duties;  and  secondly,  because  it  would 
be  impossible  to  leave  the  child  alone  during  the  six 
hours  he  spent  daily  at  the  library.  Fortunately,  he 
knew  the  very  person  he  wanted,  —  a  woman  from  thirty- 
five  to  thirty-eight  years  of  age,  who  had  been  in  Madame 
Buvat's  service  during  the  last  three  years  of  her  life,  and 
whose  good  qualities  he  had  duly  appreciated.  It  was 
arranged  with  Nanette  —  for  this  was  the  good  woman's 
name  —  that  she  should  live  in  the  house,  do  the  cooking, 
take  care  of  little  Bathilde,  and  have  for  wages  fifty  francs 
a  year  and  her  board. 

This  new  arrangement  must  greatly  change  all  Buvat's 
habits,  —  obliging  him  to  have  a  housekeeper,  whereas 
he  had  always  lived  as  a  bachelor,  taking  his  meals  at  an 
eating-house.  He  could  no  longer  keep  his  attic,  which 
was  now  too  small  for  his  needs  as  a  family  man,  and 
next  morning  he  went  in  search  of  a  new  lodging.  He 
found  one  in  the  Rue  Pagevin,  as  he  wished  to  be  near 
the  royal  library,  that  he  might  not  have  too  far  to  walk 
in  wet  weather.  This  apartment  consisted  of  two  cham- 
bers, a  cabinet,  and  a  kitchen.     He  took  it  on  the  spot, 


BATHILDE.  187 

and  went  to  buy  the  necessary  furniture  for  Bathilde  and 
Nanette's  rooms ;  and  the  same  evening,  after  his  return 
from  business,  they  moved  to  their  new  lodgings. 

The  next  day,  which  was  Sunday,  Clarice  was  buried ; 
so  that  Buvat  had  no  need  to  ask  for  a  day's  leave  even 
for  this. 

For  the  first  week  or  two,  Bathilde  asked  constantly 
for  her  mamma;  but  her  friend  Buvat  had  brought  her 
a  great  many  pretty  playthings  to  console  her,  so  that  she 
soon  began  to  ask  for  her  less  frequently ;  and  as  she  had 
been  told  that  her  mother  had  gone  to  join  her  father,  she 
at  length  only  asked  occasionally  when  they  would  both 
come  back. 

Buvat  had  put  Bathilde  in  the  best  chamber ;  he  kept 
the  other  for  himself,  and  put  Nanette  in  the  cabinet. 

This  Nanette  was  a  good  woman,  who  cooked  passably, 
and  had  remarkable  skill  in  knitting  and  spinning.  In 
spite  of  these  divers  talents,  Buvat  understood  that  he 
and  Nanette  would  not  suffice  for  the  education  of  a 
young  girl;  and  that  though  she  might  write  magnifi- 
cently, know  her  five  rules,  and  be  able  to  sew  and  spin, 
she  would  still  know  only  half  of  what  she  should. 
Buvat  had  looked  the  obligation  he  had  undertaken  full 
in  the  face.  His  was  one  of  those  happy  organizations 
which  think  with  the  heart ;  and  he  well  understood  that 
though  she  had  become  his  ward,  Bathilde  remained  none 
the  less  the  child  of  Albert  and  Clarice.  He  resolved, 
then,  to  give  her  an  education  conformable,  not  to  her 
present  situation,  but  to  the  name  she  bore. 

In  arriving  at  this  resolution,  Buvat  had  reasoned,  very 
simply,  that  he  owed  his  place  to  Albert,  and  conse- 
quently that  the  income  of  that  place  belonged  to  Ba- 
thilde. His  salary  of  nine  hundred  francs  he  divided  as 
follows  :  four  hundred  and  fifty  for  music,  drawing,  and 


188  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

dancing  masters ;  four  hundred  and   fifty  for  Bathilde's 
dowry. 

Now,  supposing  that  Bathilde,  who  was  four  years  old, 
should  marry  at  eighteen,  the  interest  and  the  capital  to- 
gether would  amount  at  the  date  of  her  marriage  to 
something  like  nine  or  ten  thousand  francs.  This  was 
not  much,  he  knew,  and  was  much  troubled  "by  that 
knowledge ;  but  he  pondered  over  it  in  vain,  —  he  could 
not  make  it  more. 

To  defray  the  expense  of  their  living,  lodgings,  and, 
clothing  for  Bathilde  and  himself,  and  to  pay  Nanette's 
wages,  he  would  again  begin  to  give  writing  lessons  and 
make  copies.  For  this  purpose  he  got  up  at  five  o'clock 
in  the  morning,  and  went  to  bed  at  ten  at  night.  This 
would  be  all  profit ;  for  thanks  to  this  new  arrangement, 
he  would  lengthen  his  life  by  two  or  three  hours  daily. 
For  some  time  these  good  resolutions  prospered ;  neither 
lessons  nor  copies  were  wanting ;  and  as  two  years  passed 
before  Bathilde  had  finished  the  early  education  he  him- 
self undertook  to  give  her,  he  was  able  to  add  nine  hun- 
dred francs  to  her  little  treasure. 

When  she  was  six  years  old  Bathilde  had  what  the 
daughters  of  the  richest  and  noblest  houses  seldom  have 
at  that  age,  —  masters  for  music,  drawing,  and  dancing. 
Making  sacrifices  for  this  charming  child  was  mere  pleas- 
ure. She  appeared  to  have  received  from  God  one  of 
those  happy  organizations  whose  aptitude  makes  us  be- 
lieve in  a  former  state  of  being ;  for  they  appear  not  so 
much  to  be  learning  a  new  thing  as  to  be  remembering 
something  formerly  known.  As  to  her  beauty,  it  amply 
fulfilled  the  brilliant  promise  of  earlier  days. 

Buvat  was  very  happy  during  the  week  when,  after 
each  lesson,  he  received  the  compliments  of  the  master, 
and  very  proud  on  Sundays,  when   having   put   on  his 


BATHILDE.  189 

salmon-colored  coat,  his  black  velvet  breeches,  and  varie- 
gated stockings,  he  took  Bathilde  by  the  hand  and  went 
for  his  weekly  walk. 

It  was  generally  toward  the  Chemin  des  Porcherons 
that  he  directed  his  steps.     This  was  a  rendezvous  for 
bowlers,  and  Buvat  had  formerly  been  a  great  lover  of 
this  game.     In  ceasing  to  be  an  actor,  he  had  become  a 
judge.     "Whenever  a  dispute  arose,  it  was  referred  to  him  j 
and  his  eye  was  so  correct  that  he  could  tell  at  the  first 
glance,  and  without  fail,  which  ball  was  nearest  the  mark. 
From  his  judgments  there  was  no  appeal,  and  they  were 
received  with  neither  more  nor  less  respect  than  those  of 
Saint  Louis  at  Yincennes.     But  it  must  be  said  to  his 
credit  that  his  predilection  for  this  walk  was  not  entirely 
egotistical ;  this  walk  led  also  to  the  marsh  of  the  Grange 
Bateliere,   whose   black   and   gloomy  waters   attracted   a 
great  many  of  those  dragon-flies  with  the  gauzy  wings 
and  golden  bodies  which  children  delight  to  pursue.     One 
of  Bathilde's  greatest  amusements  was  to  run,  with  her 
green  net  in  her  hand,  her  beautiful  fair  curls  floating  in 
the   wind,    after   the    butterflies   and    dragon-flies.      The 
result  of  this  was  that  Bathilde  had  many  accidents  to 
her  white  frock;  but  provided  she  was  amused,   Buvat 
took  very  philosophically  a   spot  or   a   tear.     This  was 
Nanette's  affair.     The  good  woman  scolded  well  on  their 
return;   but  Buvat  closed  her  mouth  by  shrugging  his 
shoulders  and  saying,  "  Bah  !  one  can't  put  old  heads  on 
young  shoulders."     And  as  Nanette  had  a  great  respect 
for   proverbs,    which   she   occasionally   used    herself,   she 
generally  yielded   to  the  force  of  this. 

It  happened  also  sometimes,  but  this  was  only  on  fete- 
days,  that  Buvat  complied  with  Bathilde's  request  to  take 
her  to  Montmartre  to  see  the  windmills.  Then  they  set 
out  earlier.     Nanette  carried  a  dinner,  which  they  were 


190  LE  CHEVALIER   B'HARMENTAL. 

to  eat  on  the  esplanade  of  the  abbey.  They  did  not  get 
home  till  eight  o'clock  in  the  evening,  but  from  the  Cross 
de  Porcherons  Bathilde  slept  in  Buvat's  arms. 

Things  went  on  thus  till  the  year  1712,  at  which  time 
the  "great  king"  found  himself  so  embarrassed  in  his 
affairs  that  the  only  thing  left  for  him  to  do  was  to  leave 
off  paying  his  employees.  Buvat  was  warned  of  this  ad- 
ministrative measure  by  the  cashier,  who  announced  to 
him  one  fine  morning,  when  he  presented  himself  to  re- 
ceive his  month's  pay,  that  there  was  no  money.  Buvat  - 
looked  at  the  man  with  an  astonished  air ;  it  had  never 
entered  into  his  head  that  the  king  could  be  in  want  of 
money.  He  took  no  further  notice  of  this  answer,  con- 
vinced that  some  accident  only  had  interrupted  the  pay- 
ment, and  went  back  to  his  office  singing  his  favorite 

"  Then  let  me  go, 
And  let  me  play, "  etc. 

"Pardieu  / "  said  the  supernumerary,  who  after  waiting 
for  seven  years  had  at  last  been  named  employee  the  first 
of  the  preceding  month,  "  you  must  be  very  light-hearted 
to  sing  when  we  are  no  longer  paid." 

"  What !  "  cried  Buvat  j  "  what  do  you  mean  1 " 

"I  mean  that  perhaps  you  have  not  gone  to  be 
paid." 

"Yes,  I  have  just  come  from  there." 

"  Did  they  pay  you  ?  " 

"  No  ;  they  said  there  was  no  money." 

"  And  what  do  you  think  of  that  1 " 

"Oh,  I  think,"  said  Buvat,  "that  they  will  pay  the 
two  months  together." 

"  Oh,  yes,  two  months  together  !  Do  you  hear,  Ducou- 
dray  1  He  thinks  they  will  pay  the  two  months  together  ! 
Father  Buvat  is  a  good  fellow." 


BATHILDE.  191 

"  We  shall  see  next  month,"  replied  the  second  clerk. 

"Yes,"  replied  Buvat,  to  whom  this  remark  appeared 
very  just,  "we  shall  see  next  month." 

"  And  if  they  do  not  pay  you  next  month,  nor  the  fol- 
lowing months,  what  shall  you  do,  Father  Buvat  1" 

"  What  shall  I  do  % "  said  Buvat,  astonished  that  there 
could  be  a  doubt  as  to  his  resolution.  "Well,  that  is 
easy  to  answer;  I  shall  come  just  the  same." 

"What!  if  they  stop  paying,  you  will  continue  to 
come  1 " 

"  Monsieur,"  said  Buvat,  "  for  ten  years  the  king  has 
paid  me  down  on  the  nail ;  surely,  after  that  he  has  a 
right  to  ask  for  a  little  credit  if  he  is  embarrassed." 

"  Vile  flatterer !  "  said  the  clerk. 

The  month  passed,  and  pay-day  came  again.  Buvat 
presented  himself  with  perfect  confidence  that  they  would 
pay  his  arrears;  but  to  his  astonishment  they  told  him 
that  there  was  still  no  money.  Buvat  asked  when  there 
would  be  any.  The  cashier  replied  that  he  was  too  in- 
quisitive. Buvat  profusely  begged  pardon  and  returned 
to  his  desk,  but  this  time  without  singing. 

The  same  day  the  clerk  resigned.  Now,  as  it  was  diffi- 
cult to  replace  a  clerk  who  resigned  because  he  was  not 
paid,  and  whose  work  must  be  done  all  the  same,  the 
chief  told  Buvat  to  do  the  work  of  the  departed  clerk  in 
addition  to  his  own.  Buvat  undertook  it  without  a  mur- 
mur ;  and  as  his  ordinary  work  had  left  him  some  time  free, 
at  the  end  of  the  month  he  had  everything  in  good  shape. 

They  did  not  pay  the  third  month  any  more  than  the 
two  others  ;  it  was  a  case  of  downright  bankruptcy.  But 
as  we  have  seen,  Buvat  never  haggled  about  his  duties. 
What  he  had  promised  on  the  first  impulse  he  did  on 
reflection  ;  but  he  was  forced  to  attack  his  treasure,  which 
consisted  of  two  years'  pay. 


192  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

Meanwhile  Batliilde  grew.  She  was  now  a  young  girl 
thirteen  or  fourteen  years  old,  whose  beauty  became  every 
day  more  remarkable,  and  who  began  to  understand  all 
the  difficulties  of  her  position.  For  some  time  the  walks 
to  the  Porcherons  and  the  expeditions  to  Montmartre 
had  been  given  up  under  pretext  that  she  preferred  re- 
maining at  home  to  draw  or  play  on  the  harpsi- 
chord. 

Buvat  did  not  understand  these  sedentary  tastes  which 
Bathilde  had  acquired  so  suddenly.  And  as,  after  having 
tried  two  or  three  times  to  go  out  without  her,  he  found 
that  it  was  not  the  walk  itself  he  cared  for,  he  resolved,  as 
he  must  have  air  upon  a  Sunday,  to  look  for  a  lodging 
with  a  garden.  But  lodgings  with  gardens  were  too  high- 
priced  for  one  in  poor  Buvat's  financial  condition;  and 
therefore,  having  seen  in  his  travels  the  rooms  to  let  in 
the  Eue  du  Temps-Perdu,  he  had  at  once  conceived  the 
bright  idea  of  taking  a  terrace  instead  of  a  garden ;  he 
had  even  reflected  that  the  air  of  the  terrace  would  be 
especially  salubrious.  He  returned  home  to  inform  Ba- 
thilde of  his  project,  and  said  to  her  that  the  only  incon- 
venience he  could  discover  in  the  proposed  arrangement 
was  that  their  rooms  must  be  separated,  and  that  she 
would  be  obliged  to  sleep  on  the  fourth  floor  with  Na- 
nette, and  he  on  the  fifth.  But  what  Buvat  regarded  as 
an  inconvenience  seemed  to  Bathilde,  on  the  contrary, 
an  advantage.  For  some  time  she  had  felt,  with  the  in- 
stinct of  modesty  natural  to  woman,  that  it  was  not  proper 
that  her  room  should  be  separated  only  by  a  door  from 
that  of  a  man  still  young,  and  who  was  neither  her  father 
nor  her  husband.  She  therefore  assured  Buvat  that  from 
his  description  she  was  quite  certain  that  the  rooms  would 
suit  them  admirably,  and  advised  him  to  secure  them  at 
once.     Buvat  was  delighted ;  the  same  day  he  gave  notice 


BATHILDE.  193 

of  his  intention  to  give  up  his  old  lodgings,  and  at  the 
half-term  he  moved. 

Bathilde  was  right ;  for  since  her  black  mantle  revealed 
the  outline  of  beautiful  shoulders,  since  her  mittens  showed 
the  prettiest  fingers  in  the  world,  since  of  the  Bathilde  of 
former  times  there  was  nothing  left  but  her  childish  feet, 
every  one  was  taking  notice  that  Buvat  was  young,  that 
the  tutor  and  the  pupil  were  living  under  the  same  roof 
In  fact,  the  gossips  who,  when  Bathilde  was  six  years  old, 
worshipped  Buvat's  footsteps,  began  to  cry  out  about  his 
criminality,  now  that  she  was  fifteen.  Poor  Buvat !  If 
ever  echo  was  innocent  and  pure,  it  was  that  of  the  room 
which  adjoined  Bathilde's,  and  which  for  ten  years  had 
sheltered  his  good  round  head,  into  which  a  bad  thought 
had  never  entered,  even  in  dreams. 

But  on  arriving  at  the  Rue  du  Temps-Perdu,  it  was  still 
worse.  In  the  Rue  Pagevin,  where  his  admirable  conduct 
to  the  child  was  known,  this  remembrance  had  in  some 
degree  protected  him  against  calumny  ;  but  already  so 
much  time  had  passed  since  those  kindly  deeds  had 
been  performed  that  even  in  the  Rue  Pagevin  they  were 
nearly  forgotten.  It  was,  then,  very  natural  that  the 
rumors  which  had  begun  to  spread  should  follow  them 
to  their  new  abode,  where  they  were  altogether  unknown, 
and  where  their  inscribing  themselves  under  two  different 
names  precluded  any  idea  of  very  near  relationship.  Some 
supposed  that  they  saw  in  Bathilde  the  result  of  an  old 
passion  which  the  Church  had  forgotten  to  consecrate; 
but  this  idea  fell  at  the  first  examination.  Bathilde  was 
tall  and  slender,  Buvat  short  and  fat ;  Bathilde  had  bril- 
liant black  eyes,  Buvat's  were  blue  and  expressionless ; 
Bathilde's  face  was  white  and  smooth,  Buvat's  was  bright 
red.  In  short,  Bathilde's  whole  person  breathed  elegance 
and  distinction,  while  poor  Buvat  was  the  type  of  vulgar 

13 


194  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

good-nature.  The  result  of  this  was  that  the  women  be- 
gan to  look  at  Bathilde  with  contempt,  and  that  men 
called   Buvat  a  lucky  fellow. 

It  must  be  said,  in  justice  to  Madame  Denis,  that  she 
was  one  of  the  last  to  believe  in  these  rumors.  We  will 
show  presently  on  what  occasion  she  began  to  credit  them. 

The  previsions  of  the  clerk  who  resigned  were  realized. 
For  eighteen  months  Buvat  had  not  touched  a  sou  of  his 
pay,  and  yet  he  had  not  relaxed  for  a  moment  in  his 
punctuality.  Moreover,  he  was  haunted  with  a  fear  that 
the  ministry  would  turn  away  a  third  of  the  clerks  for  the 
sake  of  economy.  Buvat  would  have  looked  on  the  loss 
of  his  place  as  a  great  misfortune,  although  it  occupied 
him  six  hours  a  day  which  he  might  have  employed  in 
a  lucrative  manner.  And  therefore  his  zeal  increased  in 
proportion  as  his  hope  of  payment  diminished.  The 
result  was  that  his  employers  took  care  not  to  dismiss 
a  man  who  worked  the  better  the  less  they  paid  him. 

His  complete  ignorance,  however,  of  the  time  when 
that  precarious  situation  would  come  to  an  end,  and  the 
daily  diminution  of  his  little  treasure,  which  threatened 
soon  to  be  exhausted,  sobered  Buvat's  face  to  such  a 
degree  that  Bathilde  began  to  think  that  there  was  some- 
thing going  on  of  which  she  was  ignorant.  She  thought 
it  would  be  of  no  use  to  ask  Buvat,  and  addressing  her- 
self to  Nanette,  who  after  sufficient  urging  avowed  all  to 
her,  Bathilde  learned  for  the  first  time  all  she  owed  to 
Buvat;  and  that  to  pay  her  masters,  and  to  amass  her 
dowry,  Buvat  worked  from  morning  till  night ;  and  that 
the  secret  of  his  sadness  was  that  in  spite  of  this  extra 
work,  since  his  salary  was  not  paid,  he  saw  the  time 
approaching  when  he  would  be  obliged  to  tell  Bathilde 
that  they  must  retrench  all  expenses  that  were  not  abso* 
lutely  necessary. 


BATHILDE.  195 

Bathilde's  first  impulse  on  learning  of  this  devotion  was 
to  fall  at  Bu vat's  feet  and  express  her  gratitude ;  but  she 
soon  understood  that  to  arrive  at  her  desired  end  she 
must  feign  ignorance. 

The  next  day  Bathilde  told  Buvat,  laughing,  that  it 
would  be  throwing  away  money  to  keep  her  masters  any 
longer,  for  she  knew  as  much  as  they  did.  Since,  in  Bu- 
vat's  eyes,  Bathilde's  drawings  were  the  most  beautiful 
things  in  the  world,  and  when  she  sang  he  was  in  the 
seventh  heaven,  he  found  no  difficulty  in  believing  her, 
particularly  as  her  masters,  with  unusual  candor,  avowed 
that  their  pupil  knew  enough  to  go  on  with  her  studies 
unaided.  Bathilde  had  such  a  purifying  influence  on  all 
who  approached  her.  But  Bathilde  was  not  satisfied  with 
saving  expense  ;  she  wished  also  to  earn  some  money. 
Although  she  had  made  equal  progress  in  music  and 
drawing,  she  understood  that  drawing  was  her  only  re- 
source, and  that  music  could  be  nothing  but  a  relaxa- 
tion. She  reserved  all  her  attention  for  drawing  ;  and  as 
she  was  really  very  talented,  she  soon  made  charming 
sketches.  At  last  one  day  she  wished  to  know  what  they 
were  worth  ;  and  she  asked  Buvat,  in  going  to  his  office, 
to  show  them  to  the  person  from  whom  she  bought  her 
paper  and  crayons,  and  who  lived  at  the  corner  of  the 
Rue  de  Clery.  She  gave  him  two  children's  heads  which 
she  had  drawn  from  fancy,  and  begged  him  to  ascertain 
their  value.  Buvat  undertook  the  commission  without 
suspecting  any  hidden  purpose,  and  executed  it  with  his 
ordinary  naivete.  The  dealer,  accustomed  to  such  propo- 
sitions, turned  the  sketches  round  and  round  with  a  dis- 
dainful air,  and  criticising  them  severely,  said  that  he 
could  offer  only  fifteen  francs  each  for  them.  Buvat  was 
hurt,  not  by  the  price  offered,  but  by  the  disrespectful 
manner  in  which  the  shopkeeper  had  spoken  of  Bathilde's 


196  LE  CHEVALIER   D'HARMENTAL. 

talent.  He  drew  them  quickly  out  of  the  dealer's  hands, 
saying  that  he  thanked  him. 

The  man,  thinking  that  Buvat  considered  the  price  too 
small,  said  that  for  friendship's  sake  he  would  go  as  high 
as  forty  francs  for  the  two  ;  but  Buvat,  offended  at  the 
slight  offered  to  the  genius  of  his  ward,  answered  dryly 
that  the  drawings  which  he  had  shown  him  were  not  for 
sale,  and  that  he  had  asked  their  value  only  through  curi- 
osity. Every  one  knows  that  from  the  moment  drawings 
are  not  for  sale  they  increase  singularly  in  value,  and  the 
dealer  at  length  offered  fifty  francs ;  but  Buvat,  little 
tempted  by  this  proposition,  by  which  he  did  not  even 
dream  of  profiting,  took  the  drawings  and  left  the  shop 
with  all  the  dignity  of  wounded  pride.  When  he  re- 
turned, the  dealer  was  standing,  as  if  by  chance,  at  his 
door.  Buvat,  seeing  him,  kept  at  a  distance  ;  but  the 
shopkeeper  came  to  him,  and  putting  his  two  hands  on 
his  shoulders,  asked  him  if  he  would  not  let  him  have 
the  two  drawings  for  the  price  he  had  named.  Buvat 
replied  a  second  time,  sharply,  that  they  were  not  for 
sale.  "That  is  a  pity,"  replied  the  dealer,  "for  I  would 
have  given  eighty  francs."  And  he  returned  to  his  door 
with  an  indifferent  air,  but  watching  Buvat  from  a  corner 
of  his  eye.  Buvat,  however,  went  on  with  a  pride  that 
was  almost  grotesque,  and  without  turning  once,  went 
straight  home.  Bathilde  heard  him  as  he  came  up  the 
staircase  striking  his  cane  against  the  balusters,  as  he  was 
in  the  habit  of  doing.  She  ran  out  to  meet  him,  for  she 
was  very  anxious  to  hear  the  result  of  the  negotiation ; 
and  with  the  lingering  habit  of  her  childhood,  throwing 
her  arms  round  his  neck,  "  Well,  my  friend,"  she  asked, 
"  what  did  Monsieur  Papillon  say  1 " 

"  Monsieur  Papillon,"  replied  Buvat,  wiping  his  fore- 
head, "is  an  impertinent  rascal." 


BATHILDE.  197 

Poor  Bathilde  turned  pale. 

"  How  so  1 "  she  asked. 

"  Yes ;  an  impertinent  rascal,  who,  instead  of  admiring 
your  drawings,  has  dared  to  criticise  them." 

"  Oh  !  if  that  is  all,"  said  Bathilde,  laughing,  "  he  is 
right.  Eemember  that  I  am  but  a  beginner.  But  did 
he  offer  any  price  1 " 

"  Yes,"  said  Buvat ;  "  he  had  even  that  impertinence." 

"  What  price  1 "  asked  Bathilde,  trembling. 

"  He  offered  eighty  francs." 

"  Eighty  francs  !  "  cried  Bathilde.  "  Oh,  you  must  be 
mistaken  !  " 

"  I  tell  you  he  offered  eighty  francs  for  the  two,"  replied 
Buvat,  laying  a  stress  on  each  syllable. 

"  But  it  is  four  times  as  much  as  they  are  worth,"  said 
the  young  girl,  clapping  her  hands  for  joy. 

"  It  is  possible,  though  I  do  not  think  so ;  but  it  is 
none  the  less  true  that  Monsieur  Papillon  is  an  imperti- 
nent rascal !  " 

This  was  not  Bathilde's  opinion ;  but  not  to  enter  on 
an  awkward  discussion  with  Buvat  about  money  matters, 
she  changed  the  conversation,  saying  that  dinner  was 
ready,  —  an  announcement  which  generally  gave  a  new 
course  to  the  worthy  man's  ideas.  Buvat  gave  back  the 
drawings  to  Bathilde  without  further  observation,  and 
entered  the  little  dining-room,  singing  the  inevitable, — 

"  Then  let  me  go, 

And  let  me  play,"  etc. 

He  dined  with  as  good  an  appetite  as  if  there  had  been 
no  Monsieur  Papillon  in  the  world. 

The  same  evening,  while  Buvat  was  making  copies, 
Bathilde  gave  the  drawings  to  Nanette,  telling  her  to  take 
them  to  Monsieur  Papillon,  and  ask  for  the  eighty  francs 
he  had  offered  to  Buvat.     Nanette  obeyed,  and  Bathilde 


198  LE  CHEVALIER   D'HARMENTAL. 

awaited  her  return  with  great  anxiety,  for  she  still  be- 
lieved  there  must  be  some  mistake  as  to  the  price.  Ten 
minutes  afterward  she  was  quite  reassured,  for  the  good 
woman  entered  with  the  money.  Bathilde  looked  at  it 
for  an  instant  with  tears  in  her  eyes,  then  kneeling  be- 
fore  the  crucifix  at  the  foot  of  her  bed,  she  offered  up  a 
thanksgiving  that  she  was  enabled  to  return  to  Buvat  a 
part  of  what  he  had  done  for  her. 

The  next  day  Buvat,  in  returning  from  the  office, 
passed  before  Papillon's  door,  and  his  astonishment  was 
great  when,  through  the  windows  of  the  shop,  he  saw  the 
drawings.     The  door  opened,  and  Papillon  appeared. 

"Well,  Papa  Buvat,"  said  he,  "so  you  thought  better 
of  it,  and  made  up  your  mind  to  part  with  the  two  draw- 
ings which  were  not  for  sale  1  Ah  !  I  did  n't  know  you 
were  so  cunning,  neighbor.  However,  tell  Mademoiselle 
Bathilde  that  as  she  is  a  good  girl,  out  of  consideration 
for  her,  if  she  will  do  two  such  drawings  every  month, 
and  promise  not  to  draw  for  any  one  else  for  a  year,  I 
will  take  them  at  the  same  price." 

Buvat  was  astonished ;  he  grumbled  out  an  answer 
which  the  man  could  not  hear,  and  went  home  absorbed 
in  thought.  He  went  upstairs  without  striking  the  bal- 
uster with  his  cane,  as  was  his  custom,  and  opened  the 
door  without  noise,  so  that  Bathilde  was  not  aware  of 
his  approach.  She  was  drawing ;  she  had  already  begun 
another  head.  Perceiving  her  good  friend  standing  at 
the  door  with  a  troubled  air,  she  put  down  her  paper 
and  pencils,  and  ran  to  him,  asking  what  was  the  matter. 
Buvat  wiped  away  two  great  tears. 

"  So,"  said  he,  "the  child  of  my  benefactors,  of  Clarice 
Gray  and  Albert  du  Rocher,  is  working  for  her  bread  ! " 

"  But,  little  father,"  replied  Bathilde,  half  crying,  half 
laughing,  "  I  am  not  working,  I  am  amusing  myself." 


BATHILDE.  199 

The  term  "little  father"  was  substituted  on  great  oc- 
casions for  "good  friend,"  and  ordinarily  had  the  effect 
of  dispelling  the  worthy  man's  anxieties,  but  this  time  it 
failed.  "  I  am  neither  your  little  father  nor  your  good 
friend,"  he  murmured,  "but  simply  poor  Buvat,  whom 
the  king  pays  no  longer,  and  who  does  not  gain  enough 
by  his  writing  to  continue  to  give  you  the  education 
which  a  young  lady  like  you  ought  to  have."  He  let 
his  arms  fall  with  a  despairing  gesture,  and  his  cane 
dropped  out  of  his  hands. 

"  Oh,  you  want  to  make  me  die  with  grief !  "  cried 
Bathilde,  bursting  into  tears,  so  plainly  was  Buvat's 
distress   painted    on   his    countenance. 

"  I  kill  you  with  grief,  my  child  1 "  said  Buvat,  with 
an  accent  of  profound  tenderness.  "  What  have  I  done  1 
What  have  I  said?  You  must  not  cry.  It  wanted  noth- 
ing but  that  to  make  me  miserable." 

"  But,"  said  Bathilde,  "  I  shall  always  cry  if  you  do 
not  let  me  do  what  I  like." 

This  threat  of  Bathilde's,  puerile  as  it  was,  made  Buvat 
tremble;  for  since  the  day  when  the  child  wept  for  her 
mother,  not  a  tear  had  fallen  from  her  eyes. 

"  Well,"  said  Buvat,  "  do  as  you  like,  but  promise  me 
that  when  the  king  pays  my  arrears  —  " 

"  That  is  good,  little  father !  "  cried  Bathilde,  interrupt- 
ing him ;  "  we  will  consider  the  rest  later ;  meanwhile,  the 
dinner  is  getting  cold."  And  taking  him  by  the  arm,  she 
led  him  into  the  dining-room,  where,  by  her  wit  and 
sprightliness,  she  soon  succeeded  in  removing  the  last 
traces  of  sadness  from  Buvat's  face.  What  would  he 
have  said  if  he  had  known  all? 

Bathilde  thought  she  could  do  the  two  drawings  for 
Monsieur  Papillon  in  eight  or  ten  days ;  there  remained 
the  half,  at  least,  of  every  month,  which  she  was  deter 


200  LE  CHEVALIER   D'lIARMENTAL. 

mined  not  to  lose.  She  therefore  charged  Nanette  to 
search  among  the  neighbors  for  some  difficult,  and  conse- 
quently well-paid  needlework,  which  she  could  do  in 
Buvat's   absence. 

Nanette  easily  found  what  she  sought.  It  was  a  time 
when  laces  were  much  in  vogue.  The  great  ladies  paid 
fifty  louis  a  yard  for  guipure,  and  then  ran  carelessly 
through  the  woods  with  these  transparent  dresses.  The 
result  of  this  was  that  many  a  rent  had  to  be  concealed 
from  mothers  and  husbands ;  so  that  at  this  time  there 
was  more  to  be  made  in  mending  laces  than  in  selling 
them.  From  her  first  attempt  at  work  of  this  kind,  Ba- 
thilde  did  wonders ;  her  needle  seemed  to  be  that  of  a 
fairy.  Nanette  received  many  compliments  on  the  work 
of  the  unknown  Penelope,  who  repaired  by  day  what 
was   ruined  by  night. 

Thanks  to  Bathilde's  labors,  a  portion  of  which  was 
unknown  to  all  without,  and  even  to  Buvat  himself,  the 
comfort  of  the  household  was  increased  from  two  sources. 
Buvat,  more  tranquil,  and  seeing  that  although  Bathilde 
had  not  spoken  definitely  on  the  subject,  he  must  re- 
nounce his  Sunday  walks,  which  lost  their  charm  when 
Bathilde  no  longer  took  them  with  him,  concluded  to  be  sat- 
isfied with  the  famous  terrace  which  had  determined  him 
in  the  choice  of  his  house.  For  a  week  he  spent  an  hour 
morning  and  evening  making  his  plans,  concealing  from 
every  one  meanwhile  what  he  intended  to  do.  At  length 
he  decided  on  having  a  fountain,  a  grotto,  and  an  arbor. 

One  must  see  the  citizen  of  Paris  grappling  with  a 
fantastic  conceit  like  that  which  had  presented  itself  to 
Buvat  when  he  determined  to  have  a  park  upon  his  ter- 
race, in  order  to  understand  how  much  which  would  at 
first  seem  impossible  the  patience  of  man  can  accomplish. 
The   fountain  was  easily  devised  ;  as  we   have  said,  the 


BATHILDE.  201 

gutters,  eight  feet  above  the  terrace,  offered  every  facility 
for  its  operation.  The  arbor,  too,  could  be  contrived 
without  difficulty;  lattice-work  painted  green  and  cov- 
ered with  jasmine  and  honey-suckle  would  shield  it  suffi- 
ciently from  the  sun.  But  it  was  the  grotto  which  would 
constitute  the  crowning  triumph  in  these  new  gardens  of 
Semiramis. 

On  Sunday,  at  early  dawn,  Buvat  set  out  for  the  forest 
of  Vincennes,  where  he  sought  for  stones  of  peculiar  form. 
Some  of  these  were  good  representations  of  apes'  heads ; 
others  resembled  crouching  rabbits ;  others  still,  toad- 
stools; and  some  were  like  cathedral  bells.  When  he 
had  collected  a  sufficient  number  of  these  stones  he  had 
them  put  into  a  wheelbarrow,  and  for  the  consideration 
of  one  franc,  which  every  week  he  devoted  to  this  pur 
pose,  he  had  them  carried  to  the  fifth  story  in  the  Rue 
du  Temps-Perdu.  It  took  three  months  to  complete  this 
first  collection. 

Next,  Buvat  passed  from  monoliths  to  vegetables. 
Every  root  so  imprudent  as  to  appear  above  ground  in 
the  form  either  of  a  snake  or  of  a  tortoise  became  the 
property  of  Buvat,  who  with  a  little  pruning-bill  in  his 
hand  wandered  about  with  eyes  fixed  upon  the  ground 
with  the  eagerness  of  a  man  seeking  treasure,  and  when 
he  saw  a  woody  form  which  pleased  him,  threw  himself 
upon  the  ground  with  the  fierceness  of  a  tiger  pouncing 
upon  his  prey.  By  pounding,  hacking,  and  pulling  he 
succeeded  in  drawing  it  from  the  soil.  This  persistent 
search,  which  the  guards  of  Vincennes  and  St.  Cloud 
attempted  more  than  once  to  check,  but  without  success, 
baffled  as  they  were  by  Bu vat's  perseverance,  lasted  an- 
other three  months,  at  the  end  of  which  he  saw  to  his 
great  satisfaction  all  his  material  collected. 

Then    the  architectural  work   began.     The   largest    as 


202  LE  CHEVALIER   D'HARMENTAL. 

well  as  the  smallest  stone  which  could  serve  in  the  build- 
ing of  the  modern  Babel  was  turned  over  and  over  on  all 
its  sides  so  that  it  should  be  seen  to  the  best  advantage ; 
then  it  was  placed  carefully  in  position,  and  so  cemented 
that  each  exterior  projection  should  present  a  grotesque 
imitation  of  a  man's  head,  an  animal's  body,  a  plant,  a 
flower,  or  a  fruit.  Soon  there  was  a  curious  conglomera- 
tion of  objects  very  diverse  in  appearance,  to  which  were 
added  twining,  crawling,  climbing,  all  those  roots,  ophid- 
ian or  batrachian  in  form,  which  Buvat  had  surprised  in 
the  very  act  of  resembling  some  sort  of  reptile.  Finally, 
the  arched  roof  was  finished,  and  the  grotto  served  as  a 
lair  for  a  magnificent  hydra,  the  most  precious  piece  'of 
the  collection,  to  the  seven  heads  of  which  Buvat  had  the 
happy  idea  of  adding,  in  order  to  give  them  an  air  still 
more  formidable,  eyes  of  enamel  and  tongues  of  scarlet 
cloth.  The  result  was  that  when  the  monster  had  reached 
completion  it  was  only  with  some  hesitation  that  Buvat 
approached  the  terrible  cavern,  and  that  at  first  nothing 
in  the  world  would  have  tempted  him  to  walk  alone 
at  night  upon  the  terrace. 


A  PROPOSAL   OF   MARPJAGE.  203 


CHAPTER   XVIII. 


A   PROPOSAL    OF    MARRIAGE. 


Buvat's  Babylonian  undertaking  had  occupied  him  twelve 
months.  Meanwhile  Bathilde  had  passed  from  her  fif- 
teenth to  her  sixteenth  year,  and  the  charming  child  had 
become  a  beautiful  woman.  It  was  during  this  time  that 
her  neighbor,  Boniface  Denis,  had  taken  notice  of  her,  and 
to  such  a  degree  that  his  mother,  who  could  refuse  him 
nothing,  after  having  been  for  information  to  the  Hue 
Pagevin,  had  presented  herself,  under  pretext  of  neigh- 
borhood, to  Buvat  and  his  ward,  and  finally  had  invited 
them  both  to  pass  Sunday  evenings  with  her. 

The  invitation  was  given  with  so  good  a  grace  that 
there  was  no  way  of  refusing  it,  whatever  might  be  Ba- 
thilde's  repugnance  to  this  interruption  of  her  solitude. 
As  for  Buvat,  he  was  delighted  that  some  opportunity 
of  amusement  should  be  presented  to  Bathilde  ;  besides, 
as  he  knew  that  Madame  Denis  had  two  daughters, 
perhaps  he  was  not  sorry  to  enjoy  that  triumph  which 
his  paternal  pride  assured  him  Bathilde  could  not  fail 
to  obtain  over  Mademoiselle  Emilie  and  Mademoiselle 
Athenais. 

But  the  event  was  not  precisely  what  the  good  man 
had  anticipated.  Bathilde  discovered  at  a  glance  the 
mediocrity  of  her  rivals ;  and  therefore  when  some  one 
spoke  of  drawing,  and  called  on  her  to  admire  some  heads 
by  these  young  ladies,  she  pretended  to  have  nothing  in 


204  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

the  house  that  she  could  show ;  while  Buvat  knew  that 
there  were  in  her  portfolio  two  heads,  one  of  the  infant 
Jesus,  and  one  of  Saint  John,  both  charming.  But  this 
was  not  all.  When  Bathilde  was  asked  to  sing,  after 
Mesdemoiselles  Denis  had  been  heard,  she  chose  a  simple 
little  romance  in  two  verses,  which  lasted  five  minutes^ 
instead  of  the  grand  composition  which  Buvat  had  ex- 
pected, and  which  should  have  lasted  three  quarters  of 
an  hour. 

However,  to  Bu vat's  great  astonishment,  this  conduct 
appeared  singularly  to  increase  the  regard  of  Madame 
Denis  for  the  young  girl ;  for  Madame  Denis,  who  had 
heard  great  praise  of  Bathilde's  talents,  had  felt,  notwith- 
standing her  maternal  pride,  some  uneasiness  with  respect 
to  the  event  of  an  artistic  struggle  among  these  young 
ladies.  Bathilde  was  overwhelmed  with  caresses  by  the 
good  woman,  who,  when  she  had  gone,  declared  that  she 
was  full  of  talent  and  modesty,  and  that  she  well  deserved 
all  the  praises  lavished  upon  her.  A  retired  silk  mercer 
raised  her  voice  to  recall  the  strange  position  of  the  tutor 
and  the  pupil,  but  Madame  Denis  imposed  silence  on  this 
malicious  tongue  by  declaring  that  she  knew  the  whole 
story  from  beginning  to  end,  and  that  it  did  the  greatest 
honor  to  both  her  neighbors.  Madame  Denis  overstepped 
the  bounds  of  truth  in  professing  to  be  so  well-informed  ; 
but  the  lie  was  trivial,  and  was  doubtless  pardoned  in 
consideration  of  its  intention. 

As  to  Boniface,  in  company  he  was  dumb  and  a  nonen- 
tity ;  he  had  been  this  evening  so  remarkably  stupid  that 
Bathilde,  ascribing  no  importance  to  such  a  fellow,  had 
hardly  noticed  him. 

Boniface,  on  the  contrary,  having  admired  Bathilde 
from  a  distance,  became  quite  crazy  about  her  when  he 
saw  her  near.     From  this  time  he  began  to  sit  constantly 


A  PROPOSAL   OF   MARRIAGE.  205 

at  his  window,  and  that  obliged  Bathilde  to  keep  hers 
closed  ;  for  it  will  be  remembered  that  Boniface  then  in- 
habited the  room  afterward  occupied  by  the  Chevalier 
d'Harmental. 

This  conduct  of  Bathilde,  in  which  it  was  impossible  to 
see  anything  but  supreme  modesty,  only  augmented  the 
passion  of  her  neighbor.  At  his  request,  his  mother  went 
again  to  the  Rue  Pagevin,  and  to  the  Rue  des  Orties, 
where  she  had  learned  from  an  old  portress,  who  had  be- 
come nearly  blind  and  quite  deaf,  something  of  the  death- 
scene  we  have  related,  and  in  which  Buvat  played  so 
noble  a  part.  The  good  woman  had  forgotten  the  names ; 
she  remembered  only  that  the  father  was  a  handsome 
young  officer,  who  had  been  killed  in  Spain,  and  that 
the  mother  was  a  charming  young  woman,  who  had  died 
of  grief  and  poverty. 

Boniface  also  had  been  in  search  of  information,  and 
had  learned  from  his  employer,  who  was  a  friend  of  Bu- 
vat's  notary,  that  every  year,  for  six  years  past,  five  hun- 
dred francs  had  been  deposited  with  him  in  Bathilde's 
name,  which,  with  the  interest,  formed  a  little  capital  of 
seven  or  eight  thousand  francs.  This  was  not  much  for 
Boniface,  who,  as  his  mother  had  said,  would  have  three 
thousand  francs  a  year,  but  at  least  it  showed  that  Ba- 
thilde was  not  destitute. 

Consequently,  at  the  end  of  a  month,  during  which 
Madame  Denis's  friendship  for  Bathilde  did  not  diminish, 
seeing  that  her  son's  love  greatly  increased,  she  deter- 
mined to  ask  her  hand  for  him.  One  afternoon,  as  Buvat 
returned  from  business,  Madame  Denis  waited  for  him  at 
her  door,  and  made  a  sign  to  him  that  she  had  something 
to  say  to  him.  Buvat  followed  her  politely  as  she  led 
him  into  the  most  retired  room  in  the  house.  She  closed 
the  door,  that  she  might  not  be  interrupted  ;  and  when 


206  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

Buvat  was  seated  she  asked  him  with  much  dignity  for 
the   hand  of  Bathilde  for  Boniface. 

Buvat  was  overwhelmed  by  this  proposal.  It  had 
never  entered  his  mind  that  Bathilde  might  marry.  Life 
without  Bathilde  appeared  so  impossible  that  he  changed 
color  at  the  bare  idea.  Madame  Denis  did  not  fail  to 
remark  the  strange  effect  that  her  request  had  produced 
on  him.  She  would  not  even  allow  him  to  think  it  had 
passed  unnoticed.  She  offered  him  the  bottle  of  salts 
which  she  always  kept  on  the  mantel-piece,  in  full  sight,' 
so  that  she  might  have  occasion  to  repeat  three  or  four 
times  a  week  that  her  nerves  were  very  sensitive. 

Buvat,  who  was  much  agitated,  instead  of  simply  smell- 
ing the  salts  from  a  reasonable  distance,  put  the  flask 
close  up  under  his  nose.  The  effect  was  immediate.  He 
bounded  to  his  feet,  as  if  the  angel  of  Habakkuk  had  taken 
him  by  the  hair.  He  sneezed  for  about  ten  minutes ; 
then,  having  regained  his  senses,  he  said  that  he  appreci- 
ated all  the  honor  of  the  proposal  made  for  Bathilde,  but 
that,  as  Madame  Denis  was  doubtless  aware,  he  was  only 
Bathilde's  guardian ;  in  which  capacity  he  should  accept 
the  duty  of  communicating  to  her  the  proposal  made, 
though  obliged  at  the  same  time  to  leave  her  entirely 
free  to  accept  or  to  reject  it. 

Madame  Denis  considered  this  a  very  proper  reply,  and 
conducted  him  to  the  door,  saying  that  while  awaiting 
a  reply,  she  begged  him  to  believe  that  she  was  his 
very  humble  servant. 

Buvat  went  home,  and  found  Bathilde  very  uneasy ;  he 
was  half  an  hour  late,  —  a  thing  which  had  not  happened 
before  for  ten  years.  The  uneasiness  of  the  young  girl 
was  increased  when  she  saw  Buvat's  sad  and  preoccupied 
air ;  and  she  wanted  to  know  directly  what  it  was  that 
caused  the  abstracted  mien  of  her  good  friend.     Buvat, 


A  PROPOSAL  OF  MARRIAGE.  207 

who  had  not  had  time  to  prepare  his  speech,  tried  to  put 
off  the  explanation  till  after  dinner ;  but  Bathilde  declared 
that  she  should  not  go  to  dinner  till  she  knew  what  had 
happened.  Buvat  was  thus  obliged  to  deliver  on  the  spot, 
and  without  preparation,  Madame  Denis's  proposal. 

Bathilde  blushed,  as  a  young  girl  always  does  when  one 
talks  to  her  of  marriage  ;  then  taking  the  hands  of  Buvat, 
—  who  had  seated  himself,  fearing  that  his  legs  would  fail 
to  support  him,  —  and  looking  at  him  with  that  sweet 
smile  which  was  the  sun  of  the  poor  writer,  "  So,  then, 
little  father,"  said  she,  "you  have  had  enough  of  your 
daughter,   and  you  wish  to  get  rid  of  her?" 

"  I !  "  said  Buvat,  "  I  wish  to  get  rid  of  you  !  No,  my 
child  ;  it  is  I  who  shall  die  of  grief  if  you  leave  me." 

"  Well,  then,  little  father,  why  do  you  talk  to  me  of 
marriage  1 " 

"Why,"  said  Buvat,  "because  —  because  —  some  day 
or  other  you  must  marry;  and  by  and  by  perhaps  you 
will  find  a  good  husband,  though,  thank  God,  my  little  Ba- 
thilde deserves  some  one  better  than  Monsieur  |Boniface." 

"  No,  little  father,"  answered  Bathilde,  "  I  do  not  de- 
serve any  one  better  than  Monsieur  Boniface,  but  —  " 

«  Well,  —  but  1 " 

"  But  —  I  will  never  marry." 

"  What !  "  cried  Buvat,  "  you  will  never  marry?  " 

"  Why  should  I  ?     Are  we  not  happy  as  we  are  ? " 

"Are  we  not  happy  1 "  echoed  Buvat.  "Sabre  de  boisf 
I  believe  we  are  ! " 

Sabre  de  bois  was  an  innocent  profanity  which  Buvat 
allowed  himself  on  great  occasions,  and  which  illustrated 
admirably  the  pacific  inclinations  of  the  worthy  fellow. 

"Well,  then,"  continued  Bathilde,  with  her  angel's 
smile,  "  if  we  are  happy,  let  us  remain  as  we  are.  You 
know,  little  father,  we  must  not  tempt  Providence." 


208  LE  CHEVALIER   D'HARMENTAL. 

"  Come  and  kiss  me,  my  child  ! "  said  Buvat.  "  Ah,  it 
is  as  if  you  had  just  lifted  Montmartre  off  my  stomach  !  " 

"  You  do  not  wish  for  this  marriage,  then  1 " 

"  I  wish  for  this  marriage ! "  cried  Buvat ;  "  I !  I 
wish  to  see  you  the  wife  of  that  whelp  of  a  Boniface  !  — 
that  cub  of  Satan,  whom  I  despised  from  the  first,  with- 
out knowing  why  !     I  know  it  now." 

"  If  you  do  not  desire  this  marriage,  why  do  you  speak 
to  me  about  it?" 

"  Because  you  know  well  that  I  am  not  really  your 
father;  that  I  have  no  authority  over  you ;  that  you  are  free." 

"  Indeed,  am  I  free  1  "  answered  Bathilde,  laughing. 

"  Free  as  air." 

"  Well,  then,  if  I  am  free,  I  refuse." 

"  Diable  /  you  refuse,  and  I  am  very  glad  of  it,"  said 
Buvat;  "but  how  shall  I  say  that  to  Madame  Denis1?" 

"  How  1  Tell  her  that  I  am  too  young ;  that  I  do  not 
wish  to  marry ;  that  I  want  to  remain  always  with  you." 

"  Come  to  dinner,"  said  Buvat ;  "  perhaps  a  bright  idea 
will  strike  me  when  I  am  eating.  It  is  odd ;  my  appe- 
tite has  come  back  all  of  a  sudden.  Just  now  I  thought 
I  could  not  swallow  a  drop  of  water.  Now  I  could  drink 
the  Seine  dry." 

Buvat  drank  like  a  Swiss,  and  ate  like  an  ogre ;  but  in 
spite  of  this  infraction  of  his  ordinary  habits,  no  bright 
idea  came  to  him ;  so  that  he  was  obliged  to  tell  Madame 
Denis  squarely  that  Bathilde  was  very  much  honored  by 
her  proposal,  but  that  she  did  not  wish  to  marry. 

This  unexpected  response  astounded  Madame  Denis, 
who  had  never  imagined  that  a  poor  little  orphan  like 
Bathilde  could  refuse  so  brilliant  a  match  as  her  son ; 
consequently  she  answered  very  sharply  that  every  one 
was  free  to  choose,  and  that  if  Mademoiselle  Bathilde 
chose  to  be  an  old  maid,  she  was  perfectly  welcome. 


A  PROPOSAL  OF  MARRIAGE.  209 

But  when  she  reflected  on  this  refusal,  which  in  her 
maternal  pride  she  could  not  understand,  all  the  old  cal- 
umnies which  she  had  heard  about  the  young  girl  and  her 
guardian  returned  to  her  mind ;  and  as  she  was  in  a  mood 
to  believe  them,  she  made  no  further  doubt  that  they 
were  true.  Accordingly,  when  she  transmitted  to  Boni- 
face their  beautiful  neighbor's  answer,  she  said,  to  console 
him  for  this  matrimonial  disappointment,  that  it  was  very 
lucky  that  the  negotiations  had  terminated  as  they  had, 
inasmuch  as  she  had  been  informed  of  certain  matters, 
which,  had  Bathilde  consented,  would  have  compelled 
her  to  prevent  the  marriage. 

Madame  Denis  thought  it  incompatible  with  her  dig- 
nity that  after  so  humiliating  a  refusal  her  son  should 
continue  to  inhabit  the  room  opposite  Bathilde's;  she 
therefore  gave  him  one  on  the  ground-floor,  and  imme- 
diately offered  for  rent  the  room  which  Monsieur  Boni- 
face had  left. 

A  week  after,  as  Monsieur  Boniface,  to  revenge  himself 
on  Bathilde,  was  teasing  Mirza,  who  was  standing  in  the 
doorway,  not  thinking  the  weather  good  enough  for  her 
to  trust  her  little  white  feet  out  of  doors,  Mirza,  whom 
the  habit  of  being  petted  had  made  very  irritable,  darted 
out  on  Monsieur  Boniface,  and  bit  him  cruelly  in  the 
calf  of  his  leg. 

It  was  in  consequence  of  this  that  the  poor  fellow, 
whose  heart  was  still  suffering,  and  whose  leg  was  hardly 
healed,  cautioned  D'Harmental  to  beware  of  Bathilde's 
coquetry,  and  to  throw  a  sop  to  Mirza. 


U 


210  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 


CHAPTER    XIX. 

FIRST   LOVE. 

Monsieur  Boniface's  room  remained  vacant  for  three  or 
four  months,  when  one  day  Bathilde,  who  was  accustomed 
to  see  the  window  closed,  on  raising  her  eyes  found  that  it 
was  open,  and  at  the  window  she  saw  a  strange  face ;  it 
was  that  of  D'Harmental.  Few  such  faces  as  that  of 
the  chevalier  were  seen  in  the  Rue  du  Temps-Perdu. 
Bathilde,  admirably  situated,  behind  her  curtain,  for 
seeing  without  being  seen,  was  attracted  involuntarily. 
There  was  in  our  hero's  features  a  distinction  and  an 
elegance  which  could  not  escape  Bathilde's  eyes.  The 
chevalier's  dress,  simple  as  it  was,  betrayed  the  elegance 
of  the  wearer.  Then  Bathilde  had  heard  him  give  some 
orders,  and  they  had  been  given  with  that  inflection  of 
voice  which  indicates  the  habit  of  command. 

The  young  girl  had  discovered  at  the  first  glance  that 
this  man  was  very  superior  in  all  respects  to  him  whom 
he  succeeded  in  the  possession  of  this  little  room,  and 
with  the  instinct  natural  to  persons  of  good  birth,  she  at 
once  recognized  him  as  being  of  high  family.  The  same 
day  the  chevalier  had  tried  his  harpsichord.  At  the  first 
sound  of  the  instrument  Bathilde  had  raised  her  head. 
The  chevalier,  though  he  did  not  know  that  he  had  a 
listener,  or  perhaps  because  he  did  not  know  it,  went  on 
with  preludes  and  fantasias  which  showed  an  amateur  of 
no  mean  talents.  At  these  sounds,  which  seemed  to 
wake  all   the  musical  chords  of  her  own    organization, 


FIRST  LOVE.  211 

Bathilde  had  risen  and  approached  the  window  that  she 
might  not  lose  a  note,  for  such  a  performance  was  a  thing 
unheard  of  in  the  Rue  du  Temps-Perdu.  Then  it  was 
that  D'Harmental  had  seen  against  the  window  the 
charming  little  fingers  of  his  neighbor,  and  had  driven 
them  away  by  turning  round  so  quickly  that  Bathilde 
could  not  doubt  she  had  been  seen. 

The  next  day  Bathilde  thought  it  was  a  long  time 
since  she  had  played,  and  sat  down  to  her  instrument. 
She  began  nervously,  she  knew  not  why ;  but  as  she  was 
an  excellent  musician,  her  fear  soon  passed  away,  and  it 
was  then  that  she  executed  so  brilliantly  that  piece  from 
"  Armida  "  which  had  been  heard  with  so  much  astonish- 
ment by  the  chevalier  and  the  Abbe  Brigaud. 

We  have  shown  how,  on  the  following  morning,  the 
chevalier  had  seen  Buvat,  and  had  become  acquainted 
with  Bathilde's  name.  The  appearance  of  the  young  girl, 
the  reader  will  remember,  had  made  the  deeper  impression 
on  the  chevalier  from  its  being  so  unexpected  in  such 
a  place;  and  he  was  still  under  the  influence  of  the 
charm  when  Roquefinette  entered  and  gave  a  new  direc- 
tion to  his  thoughts,  which,  however,  soon  returned  to 
Bathilde. 

The  next  day,  Bathilde,  who,  attracted  by  the  first  rays 
of  the  spring  sun,  was  early  at  her  window,  became  aware 
that  the  eyes  of  the  chevalier  were  ardently  fixed  upon 
her.  She  had  noticed  his  face,  young  and  handsome,  to 
which  the  thought  of  the  responsibility  he  had  taken  gave 
a  certain  air  of  sadness ;  but  sadness  and  youth  go  so 
badly  together  that  this  anomaly  had  interested  her.  This 
handsome  young  man,  then,  had  something  to  annoy  him  ; 
perhaps  he  was  unhappy.  What  could  be  his  sorrow! 
Thus,  from  the  second  time  she  had  seen  him,  Bathilde's 
thoughts  had  been  led  quite  naturally  to  dwell  upon  the 


212  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

chevalier.  This  had  not  prevented  Bathilde  from  shutting 
her  window ;  but  from  behind  her  window  she  had  seen 
the  chevalier's  sad  face  become  sadder  still.  Then  she  had 
instinctively  understood  that  she  had  given  pain  to  that 
handsome  young  man;  and  when  she  sat  down  to  her 
harpsichord,  was  she  not  directed  by  a  secret  feeling  that 
music  is  the  consoler  of  troubled  hearts? 

That  evening  it  was  D'Harmental  who  played;  and 
Bathilde  listened  with  all  her  soul  to  the  melodious  voice 
which  spoke  of  love  in  the  dead  of  night.  Unluckily  for 
the  chevalier,  who,  seeing  the  shadow  of  the  young  girl 
behind  the  drapery,  began  to  think  that  he  was  making  a 
favorable  impression  on  the  other  side  of  the  street,  he 
had  been  interrupted  in  his  concert  by  the  lodger  on  the 
third  floor.  But  the  most  important  thing  was  accom- 
plished, —  there  was  already  a  point  of  sympathy  between 
them,  and  they  already  spoke  that  language  of  the  heart, 
the  most  dangerous  of  all. 

The  next  morning  Bathilde,  who  had  dreamed  all 
night  about  music,  and  a  little  about  the  musician,  felt 
that  something  strange  and  unknown  was  taking  place 
within  her,  and  though  she  was  strongly  attracted  toward 
the  window,  she  kept  it  scrupulously  closed.  From  this 
resulted  the  mood  of  impatience  under  the  influence  of 
which  the  chevalier  had  gone  to  breakfast  with  'Madame 
Denis. 

There  he  had  learned  one  important  piece  of  news, 
which  was  that  Bathilde  was  neither  the  daughter,  the 
wife,  nor  the  niece  of  Buvat.  He  had  therefore  gone 
upstairs  joyfully,  and  finding  the  window  open,  he  had 
put  himself — in  spite  of  the  friendly  advice  of  Boniface 
—  in  communication  with  Mirza,  by  means  of  bribing  her 
with  sugar.  The  unexpected  return  of  Bathilde  had  in- 
terrupted this  amusement;  the  chevalier,  in  his  egotistical 


FIRST  LOVE.  213 

delicacy,  had  shut  his  window ;  but  before  the  window 
had  been  shut,  a  salute  had  been  exchanged  between  the 
two  young  people.  This  was  more  than  Bathilde  had 
ever  accorded  to  any  man,  —  not  that  she  had  not  from 
time  to  time  exchanged  salutes  with  some  acquaintance 
of  Buvat,  but  this  was  the  first  time  she  had  blushed 
as  she  did  so. 

The  next  day  Bathilde  had  seen  the  chevalier  at  his 
window,  and  without  being  able  to  understand  the 
action,  had  seen  him  nail  a  crimson  ribbon  to  the  outer 
wall  j  she  had  especially  noticed  the  extraordinary  anima- 
tion visible  on  the  young  man's  face.  Half  an  hour  after- 
ward she  had  seen  with  the  chevalier  a  man  unknown  to 
her,  but  whose  appearance  was  not  reassuring ;  this  was 
Captain  Roquefinette.  Bathilde  had  also  noticed,  with  a 
vague  uneasiness,  that  as  soon  as  the  man  with  the  long 
sword  had  entered,  the  chevalier  had  quickly  fastened 
the   door. 

The  chevalier,  as  we  know,  had  a  long  conference  with 
the  captain ;  for  they  had  to  arrange  all  the  preparations 
for  the  evening's  expedition.  The  chevalier's  window 
therefore  remained  so  long  closed  that  Bathilde,  thinking 
that  he  had  gone  out,  had  thought  she  might  without 
impropriety  open  her  own.  Hardly  was  it  open,  how- 
ever, when  that  of  her  neighbor,  who  had  seemed  only 
to  await  this  moment  to  put  himself  in  communication 
with  her,  opened  in  its  turn.  Fortunately,  Bathilde,  who 
would  have  been  much  embarrassed  by  this  coincidence, 
was  in  that  part  of  the  room  where  the  chevalier  could 
not  see  her.  She  determined,  therefore,  to  keep  herself 
out  of  sight  so  long  as  this  state  of  things  should  con- 
tinue, and  she  sat  down  near  the  other  window,  which 
was  still  shut. 

Mirza,  however,  who  had  not  the  same  scruples  as  her 


2U  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

mistress,  no  sooner  saw  the  chevalier  than  she  ran  to  the 
window,  placed  her  paws  on  the  sill,  and  began  dancing 
on  her  hind-feet.  These  attentions  were  rewarded,  as 
she  had  expected,  by  a  first,  then  a  second,  then  a  third 
lump  of  sugar;  but  this  third  bit,  to  the  no  small  aston- 
ishment of  Bathilde,  was  wrapped  up  in  a  piece  of  paper. 

This  piece  of  paper  troubled  Bathilde  a  great  deal  more 
than  it  did  Mirza,  who,  accustomed  to  crackers  and  sucre 
tie  pomme,  soon  got  the  sugar  out  of  its  envelope  by  means 
of  her  paws ;  and  as  she  thought  very  much  of  the  con- 
tents of  the  package  and  very  little  of  the  wrapper,  she 
ate  the  sugar,  and  leaving  the  paper,  ran  to  the  window. 
But  the  chevalier  had  disappeared  ;  assured,  no  doubt,  of 
Mirza's  skill,  he  had  retired  into  his  room. 

Bathilde  was  very  much  embarrassed ;  she  had  seen  at 
the  first  glance  that  the  paper  contained  three  or  four 
lines  of  writing.  Now,  in  spite  of  the  sudden  friendship 
which  her  neighbor  seemed  to  have  acquired  for  Mirza, 
it  could  not  be  to  Mirza  that  he  wrote ;  the  letter,  then, 
was  for  Bathilde. 

But  what  was  to  be  done  with  that  letter  1  To  pick  it 
up  and  destroy  it  would  be  very  noble  and  very  proper ; 
but  if,  as  was  quite  possible,  the  paper  had  contained  that 
writing  for  a  long  time,  then  the  action  would  be  ridicu- 
lous in  the  highest  degree,  and,  besides,  it  would  show 
that  she  had  thought  it  might  be  a  letter.  Bathilde  re- 
solved, then,  to  leave  things  as  they  were.  ^The  chevalier 
could  not  know  that  she  was  at  home,  since  he  had  not 
seen  her;  he  could  not,  therefore,  draw  any  deduction 
from  the  fact  that  the  paper  remained  on  the  floor.  She 
therefore  continued  to  work,  or  rather  to  reflect,  hidden 
behind  her  curtain,  as  the  chevalier  probably  was  hidden 
behind  his. 

In  about  an  hour,  of  which  it  must  be  confessed  Ba- 


FIRST  LOVE.  215 

thilde  passed  three  quarters  with  her  eyes  fixed  on  the 
paper,  Nanette  entered.  Bathilde,  without  moving,  told 
her  to  shut  the  window. 

Nanette  obeyed ;  but  in  returning  she  saw  the  paper. 
"  What  is  that  1 "  she  asked,  stooping  down  to  pick  it  up. 

"Nothing,"  answered  Bathilde,  quickly,  forgetting  that 
Nanette  could  not  read,  "  only  a  paper  which  has  fallen 
out  of  my  pocket," —  then,  after  an  instant's  pause,  and 
with  a  visible  effort,  —  "  and  which  you  may  throw  on 
the  fire,"  she  added. 

"  But  it  may  be  something  important ;  see  what  it  is, 
at  all  events,  Mademoiselle."  And  Nanette  presented  the 
letter  to  Bathilde. 

The  temptation  was  too  strong  to  be  overcome.  Bathilde 
cast  her  eyes  on  the  paper,  affecting  an  air  of  indifference, 
and  read  as  follows :  — 

"  They  say  you  are  an  orphan .  I  have  no  parents.  We 
are,  then,  brother  and  sister  before  God.  This  evening  I  shall 
be  exposed  to  a  great  danger  ;  but  I  hope  to  come  out  of  it 
safe  and  sound  if  my  sister  Bathilde  will  pray  for  her  brother 
Raoul." 

"  You  are  right,"  said  Bathilde,  in  an  agitated  voice, 
and  taking  the  paper  from  the  hands  of  Nanette,  "  that 
paper  is  more  important  than  I  thought ; "  and  she  put 
D'Harmental's  letter  in  the  pocket  of  her  apron.  Five 
minutes  after,  Nanette,  who  came  in  twenty  times  a  day 
without  any  particular  reason,  went  out  as  she  had  en- 
tered, and  left  Bathilde  alone. 

Bathilde  had  only  glanced  at  the  letter,  and  it  had 
seemed  to  dazzle  her.  As  soon  as  Nanette  had  closed 
the  door,  she  reopened  it  and  read  it  a  second  time. 

It  would  have  been  impossible  to  have  said  more  in 
fewer  words.     If  D'Harniental  had  taken  a  whole  day  to 


216  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

weigh  every  word  of  the  billet,  instead  of  writing  on  the 
spur  of  the  moment,  he  could  not  have  devised  it  more 
skilfully.  In  fact,  he  established,  with  his  first  words,  an 
equality  of  social  rank  between  himself  and  the  orphan  ; 
he  interested  Bathilde  in  her  neighbor's  fate  on  account  of 
a  menacing  danger,  —  a  danger  which  would  appear  all 
the  greater  to  the  young  girl  from  her  not  knowing  its 
nature ;  and  finally,  the  words  "  brother "  an#  "  sister," 
so  skilfully  introduced  in  closing,  —  and  that  only  to  ask 
from  the  sister  a  prayer  for  the  brother,  —  excluded  from 
these  first  advances  all  idea  of  love.  And  if  at  this 
moment  Bathilde  had  found  herself  face  to  face  with 
D'Harmental,  instead  of  being  embarrassed  and  blush- 
ing like  a  young  girl  who  has  just  received  her  first  love- 
letter,  she  would  have  taken  him  by  the  hand  and  said  to 
him,  smiling,  "Be  satisfied  ;  I  will  pray  for  you." 

There  remained,  however,  on  the  mind  of  Bathilde 
something  more  dangerous  than  all  the  declarations  in 
the  world,  and  that  was  the  idea  of  the  peril  which  her 
neighbor  was  about  to  incur.  By  a  sort  of  presentiment 
with  which  she  had  been  seized  on  seeing  him,  with  a  face 
so  different  from  his  ordinary  expression,  nail  the  crimson 
ribbon  to  his  window,  and  withdraw  it  as  soon  as  the 
captain  entered,  she  was  almost  sure  that  the  danger  was 
somehow  connected  with  this  new  personage,  whom  she 
had  never  seen  before.  But  how  was  this  danger  con- 
nected with  him1?  What  was.  the  nature  of  the  danger 
itself?  This  was  what  she  asked  herself  in  vain.  She 
thought  of  a  duel  ;  but  to  a  man  such  as  the  chevalier 
appeared  to  be,  a  duel  was  not  one  of  those  dangers  for 
which  one  asks  the  prayers  of  women.  Besides,  the  time 
indicated  was  not  that  which  is  usually  appointed  for 
duels.  Bathilde  lost  herself  in  her  conjectures ;  but  in 
losing  herself,  she  thought  of  the  chevalier,  always  of  the 


FIRST  LOVE.  217 

chevalier,  and  of  nothing  but  the  chevalier,  and  if  he  had 
calculated  upon  such  an  effect,  it  must  be  owned  that  his 
calculations  were  wofully  true  for  poor  Bathilde. 

During  the  remainder  of  the  day  Bathilde  saw  Raoul  no 
more.  Either  because  he  was  busily  employed  or  be- 
cause he  considered  it  good  strategy,  he  kept  his  window 
obstinately  closed.  And  therefore,  when  Buvat  came 
home  as  usual,  at  ten  minutes  after  four,  he  found  the 
young  girl  so  much  preoccupied  that  although  his  per- 
spicacity was  not  great  in  such  matters,  he  asked  her 
three  or  four  times  if  anything  was  wrong  ;  she  answered 
him  every  time  by  one  of  those  smiles  which  interested 
Buvat  so  much  in  looking  at  her  that  he  forgot  every- 
thing else.  The  consequence  was  that  in  spite  of  these 
repeated  questions  Bathilde  kept  her  secret. 

After  dinner  Monsieur  de  Chaulieu's  lackey  entered  ;  he 
came  to  ask  Buvat  to  spend  the  evening  with  his  master, 
who  had  several  poems  for  him  to  copy.  The  Abbe  de 
Chaulieu  was  one  of  Buvat's  best  patrons,  and  often  came 
to  his  house,  for  he  had  taken  a  great  liking  for  Bathilde. 
The  poor  abbe  became  blind,  but  not  so  entirely  as  not  to 
be  able  to  recognize  a  pretty  face  ;  though  it  is  true  that 
he  saw  it  through  a  cloud.  The  abbe  had  told  Bathilde, 
in  his  sexagenarian  gallantry,  that  his  only  consolation 
was  that  it  is  thus  that  one  sees  the  angels. 

Bathilde  thanked  the  good  abbe  from  the  bottom  of 
her  heart  for  thus  procuring  her  an  evening's  solitude. 
She  knew  that  when  Buvat  went  to  visit  the  Abbe  de 
Chaulieu  he  ordinarily  stayed  a  long  time ;  and  she  hoped 
that  he  would  make  as  long  a  visit  on  this  occasion  as  he 
was  accustomed  to  make.  Poor  Buvat  went  out  without 
imagining  that  for  the  first  time  she  desired  his  absence. 

Buvat  was  a  lounger,  like  every  other  bourgeois  of 
Paris.     From  one.  end  to  the  other  of  the  Palais  Royal 


218  LE  CHEVALIER   D'HARMENTAL. 

he  stared  at  the  shops,  stopping  for  the  thousandth  time 
before  objects  he  was  in  the  habit  of  admiring.  On  leav- 
ing the  colonnade  he  heard  singing,  and  saw  a  group  of 
men  and  women  who  were  listening  to  the  songs;  he 
joined  them,  and  listened  too.  At  the  moment  of  the 
collection  he  went  away,  not  from  a  bad  heart,  nor  that 
he  would  have  wished  to  refuse  the  excellent  musician 
the  reward  which  was  his  due,  but  because  by  an  old 
habit,  of  which  time  had  proved  the  advantage,  he  always 
came  out  without  money,  so  that  by  whatever  he  was 
tempted  he  was  sure  not  to  yield  to  the  temptation. 
This  evening  he  was  much  tempted  to  drop  a  sou  into 
the  singer's  bowl,  out  as  he  had  not  a  sou  in  his  pocket, 
he  was  obliged  to  go  away.  He  made  his  way,  then,  as 
we  have  seen,  toward  the  Barriere  des  Sergens,  passed  up 
the  Rue  du  Coq,  crossed  the  Pont-Neuf,  and  returned 
along  the  quay  to  the  Rue  Mazarine ,  it  was  in  the  Rue 
Mazarine  that  the  Abbe  de  Chaulieu  lived. 

The  Abbe  de  Chaulieu  received  Buvat,  whose  excellent 
qualities  he  had  appreciated  during  their  two  years'  ac- 
quaintance, as  he  was  accustomed  to  receive  him  ;  that  is 
to  say,  after  much  pressing  on  his  part,  and  many  diffi- 
culties on  Buvat's,  he  made  him  sit  down  near  him- 
self before  a  table  covered  with  papers.  It  is  true  that  at 
first  Buvat  sat  on  the  very  edge  of  his  chair;  gradually, 
however,  he  got  farther  and  farther  on,  put  his  hat  on  the 
ground,  took  his  cane  between  his  legs,  and  at  length 
found  himself  sitting  almost  like  any  one  else. 

The  work  that  was  to  be  done  did  not  promise  a  short 
sitting ;  there  were  thirty  or  forty  poems  on  the  table  to 
be  classified.  The  Abbe  de  Chaulieu  began  by  naming 
them  one  after  another  in  their  order,  while  Buvat  wrote 
on  each  a  number.  Then,  that  preliminary  task  being  con- 
cluded, since   the   good  abbe  could  not  write,  and  em- 


FIRST  LOVE.  219 

ployed  his  lackey  as  an  amanuensis,  he  proceeded  with 
Buvat  to  work  of  another  kind ;  that  is  to  say,  to  the 
correction  of  metre  and  orthography.  The  Abbe  de  Chau- 
lieu  did  not  weary  of  this  occupation,  and  Buvat  was  in- 
terested in  it  as  his  proper  business,  so  that  the  clock 
struck  eleven  when  both  of  them  thought  it  could  be  no 
later  than  nine. 

They  had  just  finished  their  work,  and  Buvat  rose,  hor- 
rified at  having  to  return  home  at  such  an  hour ;  it  was 
the  first  time  such  a  thing  had  ever  happened  to  him. 
He  rolled  up  the  manuscript,  tied  it  with  a  red  ribbon, 
which  had  probably  served  as  a  sash  to  Mademoiselle  de 
Launay,  put  it  in  his  pocket,  took  his  cane,  picked  up  his 
hat,  and  left  the  house,  abridging  his  leave-taking  as 
much  as  possible.  To  add  to  his  misfortunes,  there  was 
no  moonlight,  and  the  sky  was  darkened  by  clouds. 
Buvat  regretted  not  having  two  sous  in  his  pocket  that 
he  might  cross  the  ferry,  which  was  then  where  now 
stands  the  Pont  des  Arts ;  but  we  have  already  explained 
Bu vat's  theory  to  our  readers,  and  he  was  obliged  to  re- 
turn as  he  had  come,  —  by  the  Quai  Conti,  the  Rue  Pont- 
Neuf,  the  Rue  du  Coq,  and  the  Rue  St.  Honore. 

Thus  far  he  proceeded  in  safety,  and  although  the 
statue  of  Henri  IV.,  of  which  Buvat  had  forgotten  either 
the  existence  or  the  location,  had  frightened  him  terribly, 
and  the  clock  of  the  Samaritaine,  striking  the  half-hour 
without  warning  within  fifty  feet  of  him,  had  made  him 
tremble  from  head  to  foot,  he  had  encountered  no  real 
peril  j  but  when  he  came  to  the  Rue  des  Bons-Enfans 
all  was  changed.  In  the  first  place  the  aspect  of  the 
street  itself,  long,  narrow,  and  lighted  only  by  two  flick- 
ering lanterns,  was  not  reassuring,  and  this  evening  it 
had  to  Buvat  a  very  singular  appearance.  He  did  not 
know  whether  he  was  asleep  or  awake,  —  whether  he  was 


220  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

dreaming  or  had  before  him  a  fantastic  vision  of  Flemish 
sorcery.  In  that  street  everything  seemed  to  be  alive; 
the  posts  moved  as  he  passed  them ;  all  the  recesses 
were  full  of  whisperings  ;  men  crossed  like  shadows  from 
one  side  of  the  street  to  the  other.  At  last,  when  he  had 
arrived  at  No.  24,  he  was  stopped,  as  we  have  seen,  by 
the  chevalier  and  the  captain.  It  was  then  that  D'Har- 
mental  had  recognized  him,  and  had  protected  him  against 
the  first  impulse  of  Eoquefinette,  urging  him  to  go  on 
his  way  as  quickly  as  possible.  There  was  no  need  to 
repeat  the  request ;  Buvat  set  off  at  a  trot,  gained  the 
Place  des  Victoires,  the  Rue  du  Mail,  the  Rue  Mont- 
martre,  and  at  last  arrived  at  his  own  house,  No.  4  Rue 
du  Temps-Perdu,  where,  however,  he  did  not  think  him- 
self safe  till  he  had  shut  the  door  and  bolted  it  behind 
him. 

There  he  stopped  an  instant  to  breathe  and  to  light  his 
candle,  and  then  ascended  the  stairs ;  but  he  felt  in  his 
legs  the  effect  of  the  occurrence,  for  they  trembled  so  that 
he  could  hardly  get  to  the  top. 

As  to  Bathilde,  she  had  remained  alone,  getting  more 
and  more  uneasy  as  the  evening  advanced.  Up  to  seven 
o'clock  she  had  seen  a  light  in  her  neighbor's  room,  but 
at  that  time  the  lamp  had  been  extinguished ;  the  hours 
rolled  on,  and  no  light  appeared  in  the  chamber.  Then 
Bathilde's  time  had  been  divided  between  two  occupa- 
tions :  standing  at  her  window  to  see  if  her  neighbor  did 
not  return,  and  kneeling  before  the  crucifix,  where  she 
said  her  evening  prayers.  She  had  heard  the  clocks 
strike  nine,  ten,  eleven,  and  half-past  eleven.  She  had 
heard  all  the  noises  in  the  street  die  away  one  by  one, 
and  sink  gradually  into  that  vague  and  heavy  sound 
which  seems  the  breathing  of  a  sleeping  town  ;  and  all 
this  without  bringing  her  the  slightest  information  as  to 


FIRST  LOVE.  221 

whether  he  who  had  called  himself  her  brother  had  sunk 
under  the  danger  which  had  threatened  him,  or  had 
passed   through  it  in  safety. 

She  was  in  her  own  room,  without  light,  so  that  no 
one  might  see  that  she  was  watching,  and  was  kneeling 
before  her  crucifix  for  the  tenth  time,  when  the  door 
opened,  and  by  the  light  of  his  candle  she  saw  Buvat,  so 
pale  and  haggard  that  she  knew  in  an  instant  that  some- 
thing must  have  happened  to  him.  She  sprang  up, 
moved  by  the  anxiety  she  felt  for  another,  and  darted 
toward   him,   asking  what  was  the  matter. 

But  it  was  no  easy  thing  to  make  Buvat  speak  ;  the 
shock  had  reached  his  mind,  and  his  tongue  stammered 
as  much  as  his  legs  trembled.  Still,  when  he  was  seated 
in  his  easy-chair,  and  had  wiped  his  forehead  with  his 
handkerchief,  when  he  had  made  two  or  three  journeys 
to  the  door  to  see  that  the  terrible  visitants  of  the  Eue 
des  Bons-Enfans  had  not  followed  him  home,  he  began  to 
stutter  out  his  adventure.  He  told  how  he  had  been 
stopped  in  the  Eue  des  Bons-Enfans  by  a  band  of  rob- 
bers, whose  lieutenant,  a  ferocious  man  nearly  six  feet 
high,  had  wanted  to  kill  him,  when  the  captain  had 
come  and  saved  his  life.  Bathilde  listened  with  rapt 
attention,  first,  because  she  loved  her  guardian  sincerely, 
and  his  condition  showed  that  —  with  or  without  reason 
—  he  had  been  greatly  terrified  ;  and  then  because  it 
seemed  to  her  that  nothing  which  happened  that  night 
could  be  unimportant.  Strange  as  the  idea  might  be, 
the  thought  came  to  her  that  the  handsome  young  man 
was  perhaps  not  wholly  unconnected  with  the  scene  in 
which  Buvat  had  just  played  a  part.  She  asked  him  if 
he  had  time  to  observe  the  face  of  the  young  captain  who 
had  come  to  his  aid,  and  saved  his  life. 

Buvat  answered  that  he  had  seen  him  face  to  face,  as 


222  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

he  saw  her  at  that  moment,  and  that  he  was  a  handsome 
young  man,  twenty-five  or  twenty-six  years  old,  wearing 
a  large  felt  hat,  and  wrapped  in  a  cloak ;  moreover,  in  the 
movement  which  he  had  made  in  stretching  out  his  hand 
to  protect  him,  the  cloak  had  opened,  and  shown  that 
besides  his  sword,  he  carried  a  pair  of  pistols  in  his  belt. 

These  details  were  so  precise  as  to  preclude  the  idea 
that  Buvat  had  been  dreaming.  Preoccupied  as  Bathilde 
was  with  the  danger  to  which  the  chevalier  was  exposed, 
she  was  none  the  less  touched  by  that,  smaller,  no  doubt, 
but  still  real,  which  Buvat  had  just  escaped;  and  as  re- 
pose is  the  best  remedy  for  all  shocks,  physical  or  moral, 
after  offering  him  the  glass  of  wine  and  sugar  which  he 
allowed  himself  on  great  occasions,  and  which  neverthe- 
less he  now  refused,  she  reminded  him  of  his  bed,  where 
he  ought  to  have   been  two  hours  before. 

The  shock  had  been  violent  enough  to  deprive  Buvat  of 
all  wish  for  sleep,  and  even  to  convince  him  that  he 
should  sleep  badly  that  night ;  but  he  reflected  that  in 
sitting  up  he  should  force  Bathilde  to  sit  up,  and  should 
see  her  in  the  morning  with  red  eyes  and  pale  cheeks. 
Therefore,  with  his  usual  sacrifice  of  self,  he  told  Bathilde 
that  she  was  right,  that  he  felt  that  sleep  would  do  him 
good.  He  lighted  his  candle,  kissed  her  forehead,  and 
went  up  to  his  own  room,  —  not  without  stopping  two 
or  three  times  on  the  staircase  to  listen   for  noises. 

Left  alone,  Bathilde  heard  Buvat  go  from  the  landing 
into  his  room ;  then  she  heard  the  creaking  of  his  door, 
which  he  double-locked ;  then,  almost  as  trembling  as 
Buvat  himself,  she  ran  to  the  window,  in  her  anxiety 
forgetting  everything,   even  to  pray. 

She  remained  thus  for  nearly  an  hour,  but  without 
having  kept  any  measure  of  time.  Then  she  gave  a  cry 
of  joy;  for  through  the  window,  which  no  curtain  now 


FIRST  LOVE.  223 

obscured,  she  saw  her  neighbor's  door  open,  and  D'Har- 
mental  enter  with  a  candle  in  his  hand. 

By  a  miracle  of  divination  Bathilde  bad  been  right  in 
ber  conjecture.  The  man  in  the  felt  hat  and  the  cloak, 
who  had  protected  Buvat,  was  really  the  young  stranger ; 
for  the  stranger  wore  a  felt  hat  and  a  cloak.  Moreover, 
as  soon  as  he  had  entered  his  room  and  shut  the  door, 
with  almost  as  much  care  as  Buvat  had  exercised  in  se- 
curing his,  he  threw  his  cloak  on  a  chair,  and  she  saw 
that  he  wore  a  tight  coat  of  a  dark  color,  and  had  in  his 
belt  a  sword  and  pistols.  There  was  no  longer  any  doubt ; 
from  head  to  foot  he  answered  the  description  given  by 
Buvat.  Bathilde  was  the  more  able  to  assure  herself  of 
this  because  D'Harmental,  without  taking  off  any  of  his 
attire,  took  two  or  three  turns  in  his  room,  his  arms 
crossed,  and  thinking  deeply ;  then  he  took  his  pistols 
from  his  belt,  assured  himself  that  they  were  primed, 
and  placed  them  on  the  table  near  his  bed,  unclasped  his 
sword,  took  it  half  out  of  the  scabbard,  replaced  it,  and 
put  it  under  his  pillow ;  then,  shaking  his  head,  as  if  to 
shake  off  the  sombre  ideas  that  annoyed  him,  he  ap- 
proached the  window,  opened  it,  and  gazed  earnestly  at 
that  of  the  young  girl,  who,  forgetting  that  she  could  not 
be  seen,  stepped  back,  and  let  the  curtain  fall  before  her, 
as  if  the  darkness  which  surrounded  her  were  not  a  suffi- 
cient screen. 

She  remained  ten  minutes  thus  motionless  and  silent, 
her  hand  on  her  heart,  as  if  to  still  its  beatings ;  then 
she  gently  raised  the  curtain,  but  that  of  her  neighbor 
was  down,  and  she  saw  nothing  but  his  shadow  passing 
and  repassing  behind  it. 


224  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 


CHAPTER    XX. 

THE   CONSUL    DUILIUS. 

The  morning  following  the  day,  or  rather  the  night,  on 
which  the  events  we  have  just  related  had  occurred,  the 
Due  d'Orleans,  who  had  returned  to  the  Palais  Eoyal 
without  accident,  after  having  slept  all  night  as  usual, 
passed  into  his  study  at  his  accustomed  hour;  that  is 
to  say,  about  eleven  o'clock.  Thanks  to  the  sang-froid 
with  which  Nature  had  blessed  him,  and  which  he  owed 
chiefly  to  his  great  courage,  to  his  disdain  for  danger,  and 
his  carelessness  of  death,  not  only  was  it  impossible  to 
observe  in  him  any  change  from  his  ordinary  calm,  which 
ennui  only  turned  to  gloam,  but  he  had  most  probably 
already  forgotten  the  strange  event  of  which  he  had  so 
nearly  been  the  victim. 

The  study  into  which  he  had  just  entered  was  remark- 
able as  belonging  to  a  man  who  was  at  once  a  savant,  a 
politician,  and  an  artist.  Thus  a  large  table  covered  with 
a  green  cloth,  and  loaded  with  papers,  inkstands,  and 
pens,  occupied  the  middle  of  the  room  ;  but  all  around 
on  desks,  on  easels,  on  stands,  were  an  opera  commenced, 
a  half-finished  drawing,  a  chemical  retort,  etc.  The  re- 
gent, with  a  strange  versatility  of  mind,  passed  in  an  in- 
stant from  the  deepest  problems  of  politics  to  the  most 
capricious  fancies  of  painting,  and  from  the  most  delicate 
calculations  of  chemistry  to  the  sombre  or  joyous  inspira- 
tions of  music.  The  regent  feared  nothing  but  ennui, 
that  enemy  against  whom  he  struggled  unceasingly,  with- 


THE  CONSUL  DUILIUS.  225 

out  ever  quite  succeeding  in  conquering  it,  and  which, 
repulsed  by  work,  study,  or  pleasure,  yet  remained  in 
sight,  so  to  speak,  like  one  of  those  clouds  on  the  hori 
zon,  toward  which,  even  in  the  finest  days,  the  pilot  in- 
voluntarily turns  his  eyes.  Therefore  the  regent  never 
allowed  himself  to  be  unoccupied,  and  had  the  most 
opposite  amusements  always  at  hand. 

On  entering  his  study,  where  the  council  were  to  meet 
in  two  hours,  he  went  toward  an  unfinished  drawing, 
representing  a  scene  from  "Daphnis  and  Chloe,"  and 
applied  himself  to  the  work  interrupted  two  days  before 
by  that  famous  game  of  tennis  which  had  begun  with  a 
racket-blow,  and  finished  with  the  supper  at  Madame  de 
Sabran's. 

A  messenger  came  to  inform  the  regent  that  Madame 
Elizabeth  Charlotte,  his  mother,  had  asked  twice  if  he 
were  up.  The  regent,  who  had  the  most  profound  respect 
for  the  princess-palatine,  sent  word  that  not  only  was  he 
visible,  but  that  if  Madame  was  ready  to  receive  him,  he 
would  pay  her  a  visit  directly.  He  then  returned  to  his 
work  with  all  the  eagerness  of  an  artist.  Within  a 
few  minutes  the  door  opened,  and  his  mother  herself 
appeared. 

Madame,  the  wife  of  Philippe  I.,  brother  of  King  Louis 
XIV.,  came  to  France  after  the  strange  and  unexpected 
death  of  Madam  Henrietta  of  England,  to  take  the  place 
of  that  beautiful  and  gracious  princess,  who  had  passed 
from  the  scene  like  a  dream.  The  comparison,  difficult 
to  sustain  for  any  new-comer,  was  doubly  so  to  the  poor 
German  princess,  who,  if  we  may  believe  her  own  por- 
trait of  herself,  with  her  small  eyes,  her  short  and  thick 
nose,  her  long  thin  lips,  her  hanging  cheeks,  and  her 
large  face,  was  far  from  beautiful.  Unfortunately,  the 
faults  of  her  face  were  not  compensated   for  by  beauty 

15 


226  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

of  figure.  She  was  of  low  stature  and  fat,  with  a  short 
"body  and  legs,  and  such  frightful  hands  that  she  avows 
herself  that  there  were  none  uglier  to  be  found  in  the 
world,  and  that  it  was  the  only  thing  about  her  to  which 
Louis  XIV.  <5buld  never  become  accustomed.  But  Louis 
XIV.  had  chosen  her,  not  to  increase  the  beauties  of  his 
court,  but  to  extend  his  influence  beyond  the  Rhine. 

By  the  marriage  of  his  brother  with  the  princess-pala- 
tine, Louis  XIV.  —  who  had  already  acquired  some  chance 
of  inheritance  in  Spain  by  marrying  Maria  Theresa,  and 
in  England  by  Philippe  I.'s  marriage  with  the  Princess 
Henrietta,  only  sister  of  Charles  II.  —  would  acquire  new 
rights  over  Bavaria,  and  probably  in  the  Palatinate.  He 
calculated,  and  calculated  rightly,  that  her  brother,  who 
was  delicate,  would  die  young  and  without  children. 

Madame,  instead  of  being  treated  at  her  husband's 
death  according  to  her  marriage  contract,  and  forced  to 
retire  into  a  convent,  or  into  the  old  castle  of  Montargis, 
was,  in  spite  of  Madame  de  Maintenon's  hatred,  main- 
tained by  Louis  XIV.  in  all  the  titles  and  honors  which 
she  enjoyed  during  her  husband's  lifetime,  —  although 
the  king  had  not  forgotten  the  blow  which  she  gave  to 
the  young  Due  de  Chartres  at  Versailles,  when  he  an- 
nounced his  marriage  with  Mademoiselle  de  Blois.  The 
proud  princess,  with  her  thirty-two  quarterings,  thought 
it  a  humiliation  that  her  son  should  marry  a  woman 
whom  the  royal  legitimation  could  not  prevent  from  being 
the  fruit  of  a  double  adultery,  and  at  the  first  moment, 
unable  to  command  her  feelings,  she  had  revenged  herself 
by  this  maternal  correction  —  slightly  excessive,  adminis- 
tered to  a  young  man  of  eighteen  years  —  for  the  affront 
offered  to  the  honor  of  her  ancestors. 

As  the  young  Due  de  Chartres  had  himself  consented 
unwillingly  to   this  marriage,   he   easily  understood   hia 


THE  CONSUL  DUILIUS.  227 

mother's  dislike  to  it,  —  though  he  would  have  preferred, 
doubtless,  that  she  should  have  shown  it  in  a  less  Teu- 
tonic manner.  The  result  was  that  when  Monsieur  died, 
and  the  Due  de  Chartres  became  Due  d'Orleans,  his 
mother,  who  might  have  feared  that  the  blow  at  Ver- 
sailles had  left  some  disagreeable  reminiscence  in  the 
mind  of  the  new  master  of  the  Palais  Royal,  found,  on 
the  contrary,  a  more  respectful  son  than  ever.  This 
respect  increased  ;  and  as  regent  he  gave  his  mother  a 
position  equal  to  that  of  his  wife.  When  Madame  de 
Berri,  his  much-loved  daughter,  asked  her  father  for  a 
company  of  guards,  he  granted  her  request,  but  ordered 
at  the  same  time  that  a  similar  company  should  be  given 
to  his  mother. 

Madame  held  thus  a  high  position,  and  if  in  spite  of 
that  position  she  had  no  political  influence,  the  reason 
was  that  the  regent  made  it  a  principle  of  action  never 
to  allow  women  to  meddle  with  State  affairs.  It  may  be 
also  that  Philippe  II.,  Regent  of  France,  was  more 
reserved  toward  his  mother  than  toward  his  mistresses ; 
for  he  knew  her  epistolary  inclinations,  and'  he  had  no 
fancy  for  seeing  his  projects  made  the  subjects  of  the 
daily  correspondence  which  she  kept  up  with  the  Princess 
Wilhelmina  Charlotte  of  Wales,  and  the  Duke  Anthony 
Ulric  of  Brunswick.  In  compensation  for  this  reserve 
he  left  to  her  the  management  of  the  house  and  of  his 
daughters,  which  in  her  great  idleness  the  Duchesse 
d'Orleans  abandoned  willingly  to  her  mother-in-law.  In 
this  last  particular,  however,  the  poor  princess-palatine, 
if  one  may  believe  the  memoirs  written  at  the  time,  was 
not  very  successful.  Madame  de  Berri  lived  publicly 
with  Riom,  and  Mademoiselle  de  Valois  was  secretly  the 
mistress  of  Richelieu,  who,  always  eluding  detection,  as 
if  he  had  the  enchanted  ring  of  Gyges,  secured  admission 


228  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

to  her  apartments  in  spite  of  the  guards  who  watched 
the  doors,  in  spite  of  the  spies  with  whom  the  regent 
surrounded  him,  and  though  more  than  once  Philippe 
had  hidden  himself  in  his  daughter's  chamber,  to  watch. 

As  to  Mademoiselle  de  Chartres,  whose  character  had  as 
yet  seemed  much  more  masculine  than  feminine,  she,  in 
making  a  man  of  herself  as  one  may  say,  had  seemed  to 
forget  that  other  men  existed.  But  some  days  before  the 
time  at  which  we  have  arrived,  being  at  the  opera,  and 
hearing  her  music-master,  Cauchereau,  a  handsome  and' 
accomplished  tenor  of  the  Academie  Royal,  who,  in  a  love 
scene,  was  prolonging  a  note  with  great  purity  of  tone  and 
a  highly  impassioned  expression,  the  young  princess,  car- 
ried away  by  artistic  enthusiasm,  stretched  out  her  arms 
and  cried  aloud,  "  Ah,  my  dear  Cauchereau  !  "  This  un- 
expected exclamation  had  troubled  her  mother,  who  imme- 
diately dismissed  the  handsome  tenor,  and  putting  aside 
her  habitual  apathy,  had  determined  to  watch  over  her 
daughter  herself. 

There  remained  the  Princess  Louise,  who  was  afterward 
Queen  of  Spain,  and  Mademoiselle  Elizabeth,  who  be- 
came the  Duchesse  de  Lorraine,  but  as  to  them  there  was 
nothing  said  ;  either  they  were  really  sedate,  or  else  they 
understood  better  than  their  elder  sisters  how  to  restrain 
the  sentiments  of  their  hearts,  or  the  accents  of  passion. 

As  soon  as  the  prince  saw  his  mother  appear,  he  sus- 
pected some  new  disturbance  in  the  rebellious  troop  of 
which  she  had  taken  the  command,  and  which  gave  her 
such  trouble ;  but  as  nothing  could  make  him  forget  the 
respect  which  in  public  and  in  private  he  paid  to  his 
mother,  he  rose  on  seeing  her,  and  after  saluting  her, 
took  her  by  the  hand  and  conducted  her  to  a  seat.  He 
himself  remained  standing. 

"  Well,  my  son,"  said  Madame,  with  a  strong  German 


THE  CONSUL  DUILIUS.  229 

accent,  "  what  is  this  that  I  hear,  and  what  happened  to 
you  last  evening  1 " 

"Last  evening]"  said  the  regent,  recalling  his  thoughts 
and  questioning  himself. 

"  Yes,"  answered  the  palatine,  "  last  evening,  in  coming 
home  from  Madame  de  Sabran's." 

"  Oh,  it  is  only  that  1 "  said  the  prince. 

"  What !  '  only  that ! '  Your  friend  Simiane  goes  about 
everywhere  saying  that  they  wanted  to  carry  you  off,  and 
that  you  escaped  only  by  coming  across  the  roofs,  —  a  sin- 
gular road,  you  will  confess,  for  the  regent  of  the  king- 
dom, and  a  road  which  your  ministers,  however  devoted 
to  you  they  may  be,  probably  will  decline  to  take  in 
order  to  be  present  at  your  council." 

"  Simiane  is  a  fool,  Mother,"  answered  the  regent,  un- 
able to  keep  himself  from  laughing  at  his  mother's  still 
scolding  him  as  if  he  were  a  child.  "  It  was  not  anybody 
who  wanted  to  carry  me  away,  but  some  roisterers  who 
had  been  drinking  at  the  cabarets  near  the  Barriere  des 
Sergens,  and  had  come  to  make  a  row  in  the  Rue  des 
Bons-Enfans.  As  to  the  road  we  followed,  we  chose  it, 
not  for  flight,  but  simply  to  gain  a  wager  which  that 
drunken  Simiane  is  furious  at  having  lost." 

"  My  son,  my  son  ! "  said  the  palatine,  shaking  her 
head,  "  you  will  never  believe  in  danger,  and  yet  you 
know  what  your  enemies  are  capable  of  doing.  Believe 
me,  those  who  calumniate  the  soul  would  have  few  scru- 
ples about  killing  the  body ;  and  you  know  that  the 
Duchesse  du  Maine  has  said  that  the  very  day  when  she 
is  quite  sure  that  there  is  really  nothing  to  be  made  out  of 
her  bastard  of  a  husband,  she  will  demand  an  audience 
of  you,   and  drive  her  dagger  into  your  heart." 

"  Bah,  my  Mother  ! "  answered  the  regent,  laughing, 
"  have  you  become  a  sufficiently  good  Catholic  no  longer 


230  LE  CHEVALIER  ti'HARMENTAL. 

to  believe  in  predestination  ?  I  believe  in  it,  as  you 
know.  Would  you  wish  me  to  plague  my  mind  about 
a  danger  which  has  no  existence  ;  or  which,  if  it  does 
exist,  has  its  result  already  inscribed  in  the  eternal  book  ] 
No,  Mother,  no ;  the  only  use  of  all  these  exaggerated 
precautions  is  to  sadden  life.  Let  tyrants  tremble ;  but 
I,  who  am,  according  to  Saint-Simon,  the  most  good- 
natured  man  since  Louis  le  Debonnaire,  what  have  I 
to  fear?" 

"Oh,  mon  JDieuf  nothing,  my  dear  son,"  said  the  pala-' 
tine,  taking  the  hand  of  the  prince,  and  looking  at  him 
with  as  much  maternal  tenderness  as  her  small  eyes  were 
capable  of  expressing,  —  "  nothing,  if  every  one  knew  you 
as  well  as  I  do,  and  saw  you  so  truly  good  that  you  cannot 
hate  even  your  enemies ;  but  Henri  IV.,  whom  unluckily 
you  resemble  a  little  too  much  on  certain  points,  was  as 
good,  and  yet  he  none  the  less  encountered  a  Ravaillac. 
Alas,  mein  Gott  /"  continued  the  princess,  mixing  up 
French  and  German  in  her  agitation,  "  it  is  always  the 
best  kings  that  they  assassinate ;  tyrants  take  precau- 
tions, and  the  poniard  never  reaches  them.  You  must 
never  go  out  without  a  guard  ;  it  is  you,  and  not  I,  ray 
son,  who  require  a  regiment  of  soldiers." 

"My  Mother,"  answered  the  regent,  laughing,  "will 
you  listen  to  a  story  1  " 

"  Yes,  certainly,  for  you  relate  very  prettily." 

"  Well,  you  know  that  there  was  in  Rome,  I  forget  in 
what  year  of  the  republic,  a  very  brave  consul,  who  had 
the  unfortunate  habit  shared  by  Henri  IV.  and  myself,  of 
going  out  at  night.  It  happened  that  this  consul  was 
sent  against  the  Carthaginians,  and  having  invented  an 
implement  of  war  called  a  crow,  he  gained  against  them 
the  first  naval  battle  in  which  the  Romans  had  been  vic- 
tors ;  so  that  he  returned  to  Rome,  congratulating  him* 


THE  CONSUL  DUILIUS.  231 

self  beforehand  on  the  increase  of  fortune  which  would 
follow  his  increase  of  reputation.  He  was  not  deceived; 
all  the  population  awaited  him  at  the  city  gates,  and  con- 
ducted him  in  triumph  to  the  capitol,  where  the  senate 
expected  him. 

"  The  senate  announced  to  him  that  in  reward  for  his 
victory  they  had  just  voted  to  bestow  on  him  an  honor 
which  must  be  highly  pleasing  to  him  ;  and  this  was  that 
whenever  he  went  out  he  should  be  preceded  by  a  musi- 
cian, who  should  announce  to  every  one,  by  playing  on 
the  flute,  that  he  was  followed  by  the  famous  Duilius, 
the  conqueror  of  the  Carthaginians.  Duilius,  you  will 
understand,  my  Mother,  was  at  the  height  of  joy  at  such 
an  honor.  He  returned  home  with  a  proud  bearing,  and 
preceded  by  his  flute-player,  who  played  his  best,  amid 
the  acclamations  of  the  multitude,  crying  at  the  top  of 
their  voices,  '  Long  live  Duilius  !  long  live  the  conqueror 
of  the  Carthaginians  !  long  live  the  savior  of  Rome !  ' 
This  was  so  intoxicating  that  the  poor  consul  nearly  went 
crazy  with  joy.  Twice  during  the  day  he  went  out, 
although  he  had  nothing  to  do  in  the  town,  only  to 
enjoy  the  senatorial  privilege,  and  to  hear  the  triumphal 
music  and  the  cries  which  accompanied  it.  This  occu- 
pation had  raised  him  by  the  evening  into  a  state  of  glo- 
rification such  as  it  is  not  easy  to  explain.  The  evening 
came.  The  conqueror  had  a  mistress  whom  he  loved  very 
much,  and  whom  he  was  eager  to  see  again,  —  a  sort  of 
Madame  de  Sabran,  with  the  exception  that  the  husband 
thought  proper  to  be  jealous,  while  ours,  as  you  know,  is 
not  so  absurd. 

"  The  consul  therefore  had  his  bath,  dressed  and  per- 
fumed himself  writh  the  greatest  care,  and  when  eleven 
o'clock  arrived,  he  set  out  on  tiptoe  for  the  Suburranian 
Street.     But  he  had  reckoned  without  his  host,  or  rather 


232  LE  CHEVALIER   D'HARMENTAL. 

without  his  musician.  Hardly  had  he  gone  four  steps, 
when  the  flute-player,  who  was  attached  to  his  service  by 
night  as  well  as  day,  darted  from  a  post  on  which  he  had  been 
sitting,  and  recognizing  his  consul,  took  his  place  in  ad- 
vance and  marched  on,  playing  with  all  his  might  and  main. 
The  consequence  of  this  was  that  those  who  were  in  the 
streets  turned  round,  those  who  were  at  home  came  to 
the  door,  and  those  who  were  in  bed  got  up  and  opened 
their  windows,  all  repeating  in  chorus,  '  Here  is  the  Con- 
sul Duilius  !  long  live  Duilius  !  long  live  the  conqueror, 
of  the  Carthaginians !  long  live  the  savior  of  Rome  ! ' 
This  was  highly  flattering,  but  very  inopportune.  The 
consul  wished  to  silence  his  instrumentalist,  but  he  de- 
clared that  the  orders  he  had  received  from  the  senate 
were  precise,  —  not  to  be  quiet  a  minute ;  that  he  had 
ten  thousand  sesterces  a  year  for  blowing  into  his  flute, 
and  blow  he  would  as  long  as  he  had  any  breath  left. 

"The  consul  saw  that  it  was  useless  to  argue  with 
a  man  whose  claim  was  sustained  by  a  decree  of  the  sen- 
ate, and  thereupon  betook  himself  to  flight  in  the  hope  of 
escaping  from  his  melodious  companion.  But  the  latter 
adapted  his  pace  to  that  of  the  consul  with  such  precision 
that  Duilius  succeeded  only  in  getting  in  advance  of  the 
flute-player,  so  that  the  consul  led,  instead  of  following. 
He  doubled  like  a  hare,  leaped  like  a  roebuck,  rushed  madly 
forward  like  a  wild  boar  ;  the  cursed  flute-player  did  not 
lose  his  track  for  an  instant,  so  that  all  Rome,  not  under- 
standing the  object  of  this  nocturnal  race,  but  knowing 
that  it  was  the  victor  who  was  running,  came  to  their 
windows  and  doors,  and  out  into  the  streets,  shouting, 
1  Long  live  Duilius  !  long  live  the  conqueror  of  the  Cartha- 
ginians !  long  live  the  savior  of  Rome  !  '  The  poor  great 
man  had  one  last  hope,  —  that  of  finding  his  mistress's 
house  quiet  for  the  night,  so  that  he  could  slip  in  at  the 


THE  CONSUL  DUILIUS.  233 

door  left  ajar  as  she  had  promised  it  would  be.  But,  no ; 
when  he  arrived  at  that  hospitable  and  gracious  house,  at 
whose  door  he  had  so  often  poured  perfumes  and  hung 
garlands,  he  found  that  its  occupants  were  awake  like  all 
the  rest ;  and  at  the  window  was  the  husband,  who,  as 
soon  as  he  saw  him,  began  to  cry,  '  Long  live  Duilius ! 
long  live  the  conqueror  of  the  Carthaginians !  long  live  the 
savior  of  Eome  ! '     The  hero  returned  home  despairing. 

"The  next  day  he  hoped  to  steal  a  march  on  his  musi- 
cian ;  but  this  hope  was  fallacious.  And  it  was  the  same 
the  day  after,  and  the  following  days  •  so  that  the  consul, 
seeing  that  it  was  impossible  to  keep  his  incognito,  left 
for  Sicily,  where,  in  his  wrath,  he  beat  the  Carthaginians 
again,  but  this  time  so  unmercifully  that  every  one 
thought  that  must  be  the  end  of  Punic  wars.  Rome  was 
so  enthusiastic  that  it  instituted  public  celebrations  like 
those  on  the  anniversary  of  the  foundation  of  the  city, 
and  proposed  to  give  the  conqueror  a  triumph  even  more 
magnificent  than  the  first.  As  to  the  senate,  it  assembled 
before  the  arrival  of  Duilius,  to  determine  what  reward 
should  be  conferred  upon  him.  They  were  all  in  favor 
of  a  public  statue,  when  suddenly  they  heard  shouts  of 
triumph  and  the  sound  of  a  flute.  It  was  the  consul, 
who  had  freed  himself  from  the  triumph,  thanks  to  his 
haste,  but  who  could  not  free  himself  from  public  grati- 
tude, thanks  to  his  flute-player.  Suspecting  that  they 
were  preparing  for  him  something  new,  he  came  to  take 
part  in  the  deliberations.  He  found  the  senate  ready  to 
vote,  with  their  balls  in  their  hands. 

"He  advanced  to  the  tribune.  'Conscript  Fathers,' 
said  he,  Ms  it  not  your  intention  to  give  me  a  reward 
which  will  be  agreeable  to  me  V  '  Our  intention/  replied 
the  president,  '  is  to  make  you  the  happiest  man  on  earth/ 
1  Good ! '  said  Duilius ;  '  will  you  allow  me  to  ask  from 


234  LE  CHEVALIER   D'HARMENTAL. 

you  that  which  I  desire  most? '  'Speak  !  '  cried  all  the 
senators  at  once.  'And  you  will  confer  it  on  me?'  lie 
inquired,  with  all  the  timidity  of  doubt.  'By  Jupiter, 
we  will ! '  answered  the  president  in  the  name  of  the 
assembly.  'Then,  Conscript  Fathers,'  said  Duilius,  'if 
you  think  that  I  have  deserved  well  of  the  country,  take 
away  from  me,  in  recompense  for  this  second  victory,  this 
cursed  flute-player,  whom  you  gave  me  for  the  first.'  The 
senate  thought  the  request  strange,  but  they  had  pledged 
their  word,  and  at  that  period  promises  were  made  to  be 
fulfilled.  The  flute-player  was  allowed  to  retire  on  half- 
pay,  and  the  Consul  Duilius,  having  got  rid  of  his  musi- 
cian, recovered  his  incognito,  and  without  noise  found 
the  door  of  that  little  house  in  the  Suburranian  Street 
which  one  victory  had  closed  against  him,  and  another 
had  reopened." 

"Well,"  asked  the  palatine,  "  what  has  this  story  to  do 
with  the  fear  I  have  of  your  being  assassinated  ? " 

"  What  has  it  to  do  with  it,  Mother? "  said  the  prince, 
laughing.  "  If  the  one  musician  of  the  Consul  Duilius 
caused  him  such  disappointment,  imagine  what  would 
happen  to  me  if  I  had  a  regiment  of  guards ! " 

"  Ah,  Philippe,  Philippe ! "  answered  the  princess, 
laughing  and  sighing  at  the  same  time,  "will  you  always 
treat  serious  matters  so  lightly  ? " 

"No,  Mother,"  said  the  regent;  "and  the  proof  is 
that  as  I  presume  you  did  not  come  here  solely  to  read 
me  a  lecture  on  my  nocturnal  courses,  but  to  speak  on 
business,  I  am  ready  to  listen  to  you,  and  to  reply 
seriously." 

"Yes,  you  are  right,"  said  the  princess;  "I  did  come 
to  speak  to  you  of  other  things.  I  came  to  speak  of 
Mademoiselle  de  Chartres." 

"  Yes,  of  your  favorite,  Mother ;  for  it  is  useless  to  deny 


THE  CONSUL  DUILIUS.  235 

it,  —  Louise  is  your  favorite.  Cau  it  be  because  she  does 
not  love  her  uncles  much,  whom  you  do  not  love  at  all?  " 

"  No,  it  is  not  that,  but  I  confess  it  is  pleasing  to  me 
to  see  that  she  has  no  better  opinion  of  the  bastards  than 
I  have ;  but  it  is  because,  except  as  to  beauty,  which  she 
has,  and  I  never  had,  she  is  exactly  what  I  was  at  her 
age,  having  true  boy's  tastes,  —  loving  dogs,  horses,  and 
cavalcades,  handling  powder  like  an  artilleryman,  and 
making  squibs  like  a  workman.  Well,  guess  what  has 
happened  to  her." 

"  She  wants  a  commission  in  the  guards  1 " 

"No,  no;  she  wants  to  be  a  nun." 

"  A  nun !  Louise !  Impossible ;  it  must  be  some 
prank    of  her   madcap    sisters  ! " 

"  Not  at  all,"  replied  the  palatine ;  "  there  is  no  joke 
about  it,   I  assure  you." 

"  But  how  the  devil  has  she  got  this  passion  for  the 
cloister]"  asked  the  regent,  beginning  to  believe  in  the 
truth  of  what  his  mother  told  him,  accustomed  as  he 
was  to  the  incidents  of  a  period  when  the  most  extrav- 
agant things  were  always  the  most  probable. 

"  Where  did  she  get  it  1 "  replied  Madame ;  "  ask  God 
or  the  devil,  for  it  is  known  only  to  the  one  or  the  other 
of  those  two.  The  day  before  yesterday  she  passed  with 
her  sister,  riding,  shooting,  laughing,  —  in  fact,  I  had  never 
seen  her  so  gay ;  but  in  the  evening  Madame  d'Orleans 
sent  for  me.  I  found  Mademoiselle  de  Chartres  at  her 
mother's  knees,  in  tears,  and  begging  permission  to  go 
and  perform  her  devotions  in  the  Abbey  des  Chelles. 
Her  mother  turned  to  me,  and  said,  '  What  do  you  think 
of  this,  Madame V  *I  think,'  I  replied,  'that  we  can 
perform  our  devotions  equally  well  in  any  place,  and  that 
all  depends  on  our  own  preparations ; '  but  hearing  my 
words,  Mademoiselle  de  Chartres  redoubled  her  prayers, 


236  LE  CHEVALIER   D'HARMENTAL. 

and  with  so  much  earnestness  that  I  said  to  her  mother, 
1  Well,  my  daughter,  it  is  for  you  to  decide.'  '  Oh,'  re- 
plied the  duchess,  '  we  cannot  prevent  this  poor  child 
from  performing  her  devotions.'  'Let  her  go,  then,'  I 
replied  ;  '  and  may  God  grant  that  she  goes  with  that  in- 
tention ! '  'I  swear  to  you,  Madame,'  said  Mademoiselle 
de  Chartres,  '  that  I  go  for  God  alone,  and  that  I  am  in- 
fluenced by  no  worldly  idea.'  Then  she  embraced  us,  and 
yesterday  morning  at  seven  o'clock  she  set  out." 

"  I  know  all  that,  since  I  was  to  have  taken  her  there,' 
replied  the  regent.  "Something,  then,  has  happened 
since  ! " 

"  Yes,  yesterday  evening  she  sent  back  the  carriage, 
giving  the  coachman  a  letter  addressed  to  you,  to  her 
mother,  and  to  me,  in  which  she  says  that  finding  in  the 
cloister  that  tranquillity  and  peace  which  she  cannot  hope 
for  in  the  world,  she  does  not  wish  to  leave  it." 

"  And  what  does  her  mother  say  to  this  fine  resolu- 
tion1?" asked  the  regent,  taking  the  letter. 

"Her  mother ?"  replied  Madame.  "To  tell  you  the 
truth,  I  believe  her  mother  is  very  glad,  for  she  likes 
convents,  and  thinks  that  her  daughter  will  find  great 
happiness  in  becoming  a  nun;  but  I  say  there  is  no 
happiness  where  there  is   no   vocation." 

The  regent  read  and  re-read  the  letter  of  Mademoiselle 
de  Chartres,  trying  to  discover  in  that  simple  expression 
of  her  desire  to  remain  at  Chelles  the  secret  causes  which 
had  given  rise  to  it.  Then  after  an  instant  of  medita- 
tion, as  deep  as  if  the  fate  of  empires  depended  on  it, 
"There  is  some  love  pique  here,"  said  he.  "Do  you 
know  if  Louise  loves  any  one?" 

Madame  related  to  the  regent  the  adventure  of  the 
opera  and  the  exclamation  of  the  princess,  in  her 
admiration    for   the   handsome   tenor. 


THE  CONSUL  DUILIUS.  237 

"Diablef"  cried  the  regent,  "and  what  did  you  and 
the  Duchesse  d'Orleans  do  in  your  maternal  council?" 

"We  showed  Cauchereau  the  door,  and  forbade  the 
opera  to  Mademoiselle  de  Chartres;  we  could  not  do 
less." 

"Well,"  replied  the  regent,  "there  is  no  need  to  seek 
further ;  it  is  all  explained.  We  must  cure  her  at  once  of 
this  fancy." 

"  And  how  will  you  do  that,  my  son? " 

"  I  will  go  to-day  to  the  Abbey  des  Chelles  and  interro- 
gate Louise.  If  the  thing  is  but  a  caprice,  I  will  give  it 
time  to  pass  off.  I  will  appear  to  adopt  her  views,  and 
in  a  year  from  now,  when  the  time  arrives  for  her  to  take 
the  veil,  she  herself  will  come  and  beg  us  to  free  her  from 
the  embarrassments  of  her  position.  If,  on  the  contrary, 
the  affair  is  serious,  then  it  will  be  different." 

"  Mon  Dieu  I  "  said  Madame,  rising,  "  remember  that 
poor  Cauchereau  has  probably  nothing  to  do  with  it, 
and  that  he  is  even  ignorant  of  the  passion  he  has 
inspired." 

"  Do  not  be  afraid,"  replied  the  prince,  laughing  at  the 
tragic  interpretation  which  the  princess,  with  her  German 
ideas,  had  given  to  his  words.  "  I  shall  not  renew  the 
lamentable  history  of  the  lovers  of  the  Paraclete ;  Cauche- 
reau's  voice  shall  neither  lose  nor  gain  a  single  note  in 
this  adventure,  and  we  do  not  treat  a  princess  of  the 
blood  in  the  same  manner  as  a  little  bourgeoise." 

"But  on  the  other  hand,"  said  Madame,  almost  as 
much  afraid  of  the  regent's  real  indulgence  as  of  his 
apparent   severity,    "no   weakness   either." 

"My  Mother,"  said  the  regent,  "if  she  must  deceive 
some  one,  I  would  rather  it  should  be  her  husband  than 
God."  And  kissing  his  mother's  hand  respectfully,  he 
led  her  to  the  door:  quite  scandalized  at   those  lenient 


238  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

customs  in  the  midst  of  which  she  lived  and  died  with- 
out ever  succeeding  in  reconciling  herself  to  them.  Then 
the  Due  d'Orleans  returned  to  his  drawing,  humming  an 
air  from  his  opera  of  "Panthee." 

In  crossing  the  antechamber,  Madame  saw  a  little  man 
in  great  riding-boots  coming  toward  her,  his  head  sunk  in 
the  immense  collar  of  a  coat  lined  with  fur.  When  he 
reached  her  he  poked  out  of  his  surtout  a  little  face  with 
a  pointed  nose  and  mocking  eyes,  bearing  a  resemblance 
at  once  to  a  polecat  and  a  fox. 

"  Oh,"  said  the  palatine,  "  it  is  you,  Abbe  ?  " 

"Myself,  your  Highness.  I  have  just  saved  France,  — 
nothing  but  that." 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  princess-palatine,  "  I  have  heard  of 
such  things,  and  also  that  in  certain  maladies  poisons  are 
found  useful.  You  should  know  that,  Dubois,  —  you,  an 
apothecary's  son." 

"  Madame,"  replied  Dubois,  with  his  habitual  insolence, 
"perhaps  I  knew  it  once,  but  I  have  forgotten  it.  As 
your  Highness  may  remember,  I  was  quite  young  when  I 
abandoned  my  father's  drugs  to  take  charge  of  your  son's 
education." 

"  No  matter,  Dubois,"  said  the  palatine,  laughing.  "  I 
am  pleased  with  your  industry,  and  if  occasion  arises  for 
an  embassy  to  China  or  Persia,  I  will  ask  the  regent  to 
appoint  you  ambassador." 

"  And  why  not  to  the  moon,  or  to  the  sun  1 "  replied 
Dubois.  "  You  would  be  still  surer  never  to  see  me 
again."  And  saluting  Madame  carelessly  after  that  re- 
ply, without  waiting  for  her  to  dismiss  him,  as  etiquette 
required,  he  turned  on  his  heel  and  entered  the  regent's 
study  without  being  announced. 


THE  ABBE*   DUBOIS.  239 


CHAPTER    XXI. 

THE   ABBE"    DUBOIS. 

All  the  world  knows  the  story  of  the  Abbe*  Dubois's 
early  days ;  we  need  not  dwell  upon  it  here.  It  may 
be  found  in  the  memoirs  of  the  time,  and  particularly 
in  those  of  the  implacable  Saint-Simon.  Dubois  has 
not  been  calumniated,  —  it  was  impossible  ;  but  all  the 
evil  has  been  told  of  him,  and  not  quite  all  the  good. 

There  was  in  his  antecedents  and  in  those  of  Alberoni, 
his  rival,  a  great  resemblance,  but  genius  was  on  the  side 
of  Dubois;  and  in  the  long  struggle  with  Spain,  which 
the  nature  of  our  subject  does  not  allow  us  to  more  than 
indicate,  all  the  advantage  was  with  the  son  of  the  apothe- 
cary against  the  son  of  the  gardener.  Dubois  preceded 
Figaro,  to  whom  he  probably  served  as  type ;  but,  more 
fortunate  than  he,  he  passed  from  the  office  to  the  salon, 
and  from  the  salon  to  the  hall  of  the  throne.  All  these 
successive  promotions  were  the  rewards  of  various  ser- 
vices, private  or  public. 

His  last  negotiation  was  his  masterpiece ;  it  was  more 
than  the  ratification  of  the  treaty  of  Utrecht;  it  was 
a  treaty  more  advantageous  still  for  France.  The  em- 
peror not  only  renounced  all  right  to  the  crown  of  Spain, 
as  Philip  V.  had  renounced  all  his  to  the  crown  of  France, 
but  he  entered,  with  England  and  Holland,  into  a  league, 
formed  at  the  same  time  against  Spain  on  the  south  and 
against  Sweden  and  Russia  on  the  north.  The  division 
of  the  five  or  six  great  States  of  Europe  was  established 


240 

by  this  treaty  on  so  solid  and  just  a  basis  that  after 
$  hundred  years  of  wars  and  revolutions  all  these  States, 
except  the  Empire,  remain  nearly  in  the  same  situation 
as  at  that  time. 

On  his  part,  the  regent,  who  was  not  very  fastidious, 
loved  this  man,  who  had  educated  him,  and  whose  for- 
tune he  had  made.  The  regent  appreciated  in  Dubois 
the  virtues  he  possessed,  and  was  not  too  severe  on  cer- 
tain vices  from  which  he  was  not  exempt.  There  was, 
however,  between  the  regent  and  Dubois  an  abyss.  The 
regent's  vices  and  virtues  were  those  of  a  gentleman,  Du- 
bois's those  of  a  lackey.  In  vain  the  regent  said  to  him, 
with  each  new  favor  that  he  granted,  "  Dubois,  take  care  ; 
it  is  only  a  livery-coat  that  I  am  putting  on  your  back." 
Dubois,  who  cared  about  the  gift,  and  not  about  the  man- 
ner in  which  it  was  given,  replied  with  his  apish  grimace, 
"  I  am  your  valet,  Mouseigneur ;  dress  me  always  the 
same." 

Dubois,  however,  loved  the  regent,  and  was  devoted  to 
him.  He  bore  in  mind  that  this  powerful  hand  alone  had 
raised  him  from  the  sink  in  which  he  had  been  found, 
and  to  which,  hated  and  despised  as  he  was  by  all,  a  sign 
from  the  master  might  restore  him.  He  watched,  there- 
fore, with  a  personal  interest  the  hatreds  and  plots  which 
might  reach  the  prince  ;  and  more  than  once,  by  the  aid 
of  a  police  often  better  managed  than  that  of  the  lieuten- 
ant-general, and  which  extended,  by  the  help  of  Madame 
de  Tencin,  into  the  highest  aristocracy,  and  by  the  help 
of  La  Fillon,  to  the  lowest  grades  of  society,  he  had  de- 
feated conspiracies  of  which  Messire  Voyer  d'Argenson 
had  not  even  heard  a  whisper. 

Therefore  the  regent,  who  appreciated  the  services  which 
Dubois  had  rendered  him,  and  could  still  render  him,  re- 
ceived the  ambassador  with  open  arms.     As  soon  as  he 


THE  ABBE   DUBOIS.  241 

saw  him,  be  rose,  and  contrary  to  the  custom  of  princes, 
who  generally  depreciate  the  service  in  order  to  diminish 
the  reward,  "  Dubois,"  said  he,  joyously,  "  you  are  my 
best  friend ;  and  the  treaty  of  the  quadruple  alliance  will 
be  more  profitable  to  King  Louis  XV.  than  all  the  victo- 
ries of  his  ancestor,   Louis  XIV." 

"Bravo!"  said  Dubois,  "you  do  me  justice,  Mon~ 
seigneur  ;  but  unfortunately  every  one  is  not  eqMally 
grateful." 

"  Ah,  ah  !  "  said  the  regent;  "have  you  met  my  mother? 
She  has  just  left  the  room." 

"  Precisely ;  and  she  was  almost  on  the  point  of  re- 
turning to  ask  you  —  in  view  of  the  excellent  success 
of  my  embassy  —  to  give  me  another,  to  China  or  to 
Persia." 

"  Well,  well,  my  poor  Abbe,"  replied  the  prince,  laugh- 
ing, "  my  mother  is  full  of  prejudices,  and  she  will  never 
forgive  you  for  educating  her  son  in  the  way  you  did. 
But  don't  be  troubled  ;   I  need  you." 

"  And  how  is  his  Majesty  1 "  asked  Dubois,  with  a  smile 
that  betrayed  a  sinister  desire.  "  He  was  very  poorly 
when   I  left." 

"  Well,  Abbe,  very  well,"  answered  the  prince,  gravely. 
"  God  will  preserve  him  to  us,  I  hope,  for  the  happiness 
of  France  and  the  shame   of  our  calumniators." 

"  And  Monseigneur  sees  him  every  day  as  usual  1 " 

"I  saw  him  yesterday,  and  I  even  spoke  to  him  of 
you." 

"  Bah  !  and  what  did  you  tell  him  ?  " 

"  I  told  him  that  in  all  probability  you  had  just  secured 
the  tranquillity  of  his  reign." 

"  And  what  did  the  king  answer  1 " 

"  What  did  he  answer  1  He  answered,  my  friend,  that 
he  did  not  think  abbes  were  so  useful." 

16 


242  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

"  His  Majesty  is  very  witty.  And  old  Villeroy  was 
there,  without  doubt?" 

"As  he  always  is." 

"  With  your  permission,  I  must  send  that  old  fellow  to 
look  for  me  at  the  other  end  of  France  some  fine  morning. 
His  insolence  to  you  begins  to  tire  my  patience." 

"  Leave  him  alone,  Dubois,  leave  him  alone ;  every- 
thing will  come  in  its  own   time." 

"  Even  my  archbishopric  1 " 

"  By  the  way,  what  is  this  new  folly  1 " 

"  New  folly,  Monseigneur !  On  my  honor,  nothing  can 
be  more  serious." 

"  What !  that  letter  from  the  King  of  England,  which 
asks  me  for  an  archbishopric  for  you  — " 

"  Did  your  Highness  not  recognize  the  style  1 " 

"  You  dictated  it,  you  rascal !  " 

"  To  Nericault  Destouches,  who  got  the  king  to  sign  it." 

"  And  the  king  signed  it  like  that,  without  saying 
anything  1 " 

"  Exactly.  '  You  wish,'  said  he  to  our  poet,  *  that  a 
Protestant  prince  should  interfere  to  make  an  archbishop 
in  France.  The  regent  will  read  my  recommendation, 
will  laugh  at  it,  and  pay  no  attention  to  it.'  '  Yes,  yes, 
Sire,'  replied  Destouches,  who  has  more  wit  than  he  puts 
into  his  verses,  '  the  regent  will  laugh  at  it ;  but  after 
laughing  at  it  he  will  do  what  your  Majesty  asks/  " 

"  Destouches  was  mistaken." 

"  Destouches  never  spoke  more  truly,  Monseigneur." 

"  You  an  archbishop !  King  George  would  deserve 
that,  in  return,  I  should  point  out  to  him  some  rascal 
like  you  for  the  archbishopric  of  York  when  it  becomes 
vacant." 

"I  defy  you  to  find  my  equal.  I  know  but  one 
man  —  " 


THE  ABBE  DUBOIS.  243 

11  And  who  is  he  ]     I  should  like  to  know  him." 

"  Oh,  it  is  useless,  he  is  already  placed  ;  and  as  his  place 
is  good,  he  would  not  change  it  for  all  the  archbishoprics 
in   the  world." 

"  Insolent !  " 

"  With  whom  are  you  angry,  Monseigneur  % " 

"  With  a  fellow  who  wants  to  be  an  archbishop,  and 
who  has  never  yet  officiated  at  the  communion  table." 

"  I  shall  be  all  the  better  prepared." 

"  But  the  subdeaconship,  the  deaconship,  the  priest- 
hood 1 " 

"  Bah  !  We  will  find  somebody,  —  some  second  Jean 
des  Entomeures,  who  will  despatch  all  that  in  an  hour." 

"  I  defy  you  to  find  him." 

"It  is  already  done." 

"And  who  is  it?" 

"  Your  first  almoner,  the  Bishop  of  Nantes,  Tressan." 

"  The  fellow  has  an  answer  for  everything !  But  your 
marriage  1  " 

(t  My  marriage  !  " 

"Yes,  Madame  Dubois." 

"  Madame  Dubois  !     Who  is  that  1 " 

"What,  fellow,  have  you  assassinated  her?" 

"  Monseigneur  forgets  that  it  is  only  three  days  since 
he   gave   her  her  quarter's  pension." 

"  And  if  she  should  oppose  your  archbishopric1?  " 

"  I  defy  her;  she  has  no  proofs." 

"  She  may  get  a  copy  of  the  marriage  certificate." 

"  There  is  no  copy  without  an  original." 

"  And  the  original  ?  " 

"Here  it  is,"  said  Dubois,  drawing  from  his  pocket  a 
little  paper,  containing  a  pinch  of  ashes. 

"  What !  and  are  you  not  afraid  that  I  shall  send  you 
to  the  galleys]" 


244  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

"  If  you  wish  to  do  so,  now  is  the  time,  for  I  hear  the 
lieutenant  of  police  speaking  in  the  antechamber." 

"  Who  sent  for  him  I " 

"  I  did." 

"What  for?" 

"  To  give  him  a  scolding." 

"  For  what  reason  1 " 

"  You  will  hear.  It  is  understood  then,  —  I  am  an 
archbishop." 

"  And  have  you  already  chosen  your  archbishopric  ? " 

"Yes,  I  take  Cambrai." 

"  Peste  !  you  are  not  hard  to  please  1 " 

"  Oh,  mon  Dieu  I  it  is  not  for  the  profit ;  it  is  for  the 
honor  of  succeeding  Fenelon." 

"  Shall  we  have  a  new  Telemachus  1 " 

"  Yes,  if  your  Highness  will  find  me  a  Penelope  in  the 
kingdom." 

"Apropos  of  Penelope,  you  know  that  Madame  de 
Sabran  — " 

"  I  know  all." 

"Ah,  Abbe  ;  your  police,  then,  is  as  good  as  ever?" 

"  You  shall  judge." 

Dubois  stretched  out  his  hand,  rang  the  bell,  and  a 
messenger  appeared. 

"  Send  the  lieutenant-general,"  said  Dubois. 

"  But,  Abbe,  it  seems  to  me  that  you  are  giving  orders 
here ! " 

"  It  is  for  your  good,  Monseigneur;  allow  me." 

"  Well,  well !  "  said  the  regent ;  "one must  be  indulgent 
to  new-comers." 

Messire  Voyer  d'Argenson  entered.  He  was  as  ugly  as 
Dubois,  but  his  ugliness  was  of  a  very  different  kind. 
He  was  tall,  thick,  and  heavy ;  he  wore  an  immense  wig, 
had  great  bushy  eyebrows,  and  was  invariably  taken  for 


THE  ABBE   DUBOIS.  245 

the  Devil  by  children  who  saw  him  for  the  first  time. 
But  with  all  this,  he  was  supple,  active,  skilful,  cunning, 
and  acquitted  himself  of  his  official  functions  consci- 
entiously when  not  diverted  from  his  nocturnal  duties 
by  some  attraction  of  gallantry. 

"  Messire  d'Argenson,"  said  Dubois,  without  even 
leaving  the  lieutenant-general  time  to  finish  his  bow, 
"  Monseigneur,  who  has  no  secrets  from  me,  has  sent  for 
you  that  you  may  tell  me  in  what  costume  he  went  out 
last  night,  in  what  house  he  passed  the  evening,  and 
what  happened  to  him  on  leaving  it.  I  should  not  need 
to  ask  these  questions  if  I  had  not  just  arrived  from 
London ;  but  you  understand  that  as  I  travelled  post 
from    Calais,    I  know  nothing." 

"But,"  said  D'Argenson,  who  thought  these  questions 
concealed  some  snare,  "  did  anything  extraordinary  hap- 
pen last  evening  1  I  confess  I  received  no  report ;  I  hope 
no  accident  happened  to  Monseigneur  1  " 

"  Oh,  no,  none ;  only  Monseigneur,  who  went  out  at 
eight  o'clock  in  the  evening,  as  a  French  guard,  to  sup 
with  Madame  de  Sabran,  was  nearly  carried  off  on  leaving 
her  house." 

"Carried  off!"  cried  D'Argenson,  turning  pale,  while 
the  regent  could  not  restrain  a  cry  of  astonishment. 
"  Carried   off  I    and   by   whom  1 " 

"  Ah !  "  said  Dubois,  "  that  is  what  we  do  not  know, 
and  what  you  ought  to  know,  Messire  d'Argenson,  if  you 
had  not  passed  your  time  that  night  at  the  convent  of  the 
Madeleine  de  Traisnel  instead  of  in  the  work  of  the  police." 

u  What,  D'Argenson  !  you,  a  grave  magistrate,  give  such 
an  example  !  "  said  the  regent,  laughing.  "  Never  mind, 
I  will  receive  you  well  if  you  come,  as  you  have  already 
done  in  the  time  of  the  late  king,  to  bring  me  at  the  end 
of  the  year  a  journal  of  my  acts." 


246  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

" Monseigneur,"  said  the  lieutenant,  stammering,  "I 
hope  your  Highness  does  not  believe  a  word  of  what 
the  Abbe   Dubois  says." 

"  What !  instead  of  being  humiliated  by  your  ignorance, 
you  give  me  the  lie  !  Monseigneur,  I  will  take  you  to 
D'Argenson's  seraglio,  —  an  abbess  of  twenty-six  years, 
and  novices  of  fifteen ;  a  boudoir  in  India  chintz,  and 
cells  hung  with  tapestry.  Oh,  Monsieur  le  Lieutenant 
de   Police  knows  how  to   do   things   well." 

The  regent  held  his  sides,  laughing,  seeing  D'Argenson's 
disturbed  face. 

"  But,'*  replied  the  lieutenant  of  police,  trying  to  bring 
back  the  conversation  to  the  less  disagreeable  though,  for 
him,  more  humiliating  subject,  "  there  is  not  much  merit, 
Abbe,  in  your  knowing  the  details  of  an  event  which 
doubtless  Monseigneur  himself  told  you." 

"  On  my  honor,  D'Argenson,"  said  the  regent,  "  I  did 
not  tell  him  a  word  of  it." 

"  Listen,  Lieutenant.  Is  it  Monseigneur  also  who  told 
me  the  story  of  the  novice  of  the  Faubourg  St.  Marceau, 
whom  you  so  nearly  carried  off  over  the  convent  walls  %  Is 
it  Monseigneur  who  told  me  of  that  house  which  you 
have  had  built  under  a  false  name,  against  the  wall  of 
the  convent  of  the  Madeleine,  so  that  you  can  enter  at 
all  hours  by  a  door  hidden  in  a  closet,  and  which  opens 
on  the  sacristy  of  the  chapel,  of  Saint  Mark,  your 
patron  1  No,  no ;  all  that,  my  dear  Lieutenant,  is  the 
infancy  of  the  art,  and  he  who  only  knew  this  would 
not,  I  am  sure,  be  worthy  to  undo  the  lacing  of  your 
shoes." 

"  Listen,  Abbe,"  replied  the  lieutenant  of  police,  with  a 
grave  air ;  "  if  all  you  have  told  me  about  Monseigneur 
is  true,  the  affair  is  serious,  and  I  am  in  the  wrong  not 
to  know  it,  if  any  one  does.     But  there  is  no  time  lost ; 


THE  ABB&   DUBOIS.  247 

we  will  find  the  culprits  and  punish  them  as  they 
deserve." 

"  But,"  said  the  regent,  "  you  must  not  attach  too 
much  importance  to  this ;  they  were  probahly  some 
drunken  officers  who  wished  to  play  a  joke  on  one  of 
their   comrades." 

"  It  is  a  conspiracy,  pure  and  simple,  Monseigneur," 
replied  Dubois,  "which  emanates  from  the  Spanish 
embassy,  passing  through  the  Arsenal  to  reach  the 
Palais    Royal." 

"  Again,  Dubois  1 " 

"  Always,  Monseigneur." 

"  And  you,  D'Argenson,  what  is  your  opinion  1 " 

"  That  your  enemies  are  capable  of  anything,  Mon- 
seigneur ;  but  we  will  mar  their  plots,  whatever  they 
may  be,  —  I   give  you  my  word." 

At  this  moment  the  door  opened,  and  the  Due  du 
Maine  was  announced,  who  came  to  attend  the  council, 
and  whose  privilege  it  was,  as  prince  of  the  blood,  not 
to  be  kept  waiting.  He  advanced  with  that  timid  and 
uneasy  air  which  was  natural  to  him,  casting  a  side- 
glance  over  the  three  persons  in  whose  presence  he  found 
himself,  as  though  to  discover  what  subject  they  were 
discussing  at  the  moment  of  his  arrival.  The  regent 
understood    his    thought. 

"  Welcome,  my  cousin,"  said  he ;  "  these  two  bad 
fellows  —  whom  you  know — have  just  been  assuring  me 
that  you  are  conspiring  against  me." 

The  Due  du  Maine  turned  as  pale  as  death,  and  was 
obliged  to  lean  for  support  on  the  crutch-shaped  stick 
which    he  carried. 

"And  I  hope,  Mouseigneur,"  he  replied  in  a  voice 
which  he  vainly  endeavored  to  render  firm,  "  that  you 
did  not  give  ear  to  such  a  calumny." 


248  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

"  Ob,  mon  Dieu,  no  ! "  replied  the  regent,  negligently  ; 
"but  they  are  obstinate,  and  declare  that  they  will  take 
you  one  day  in  the  act.  I  put  no  faith  in  their  story, 
but  at  any  rate,  I  give  you  warning;  be  on  your  guard 
against  them,  for  they  are  clever  fellows,  I  warrant  you." 

The  Due  du  Maine  opened  his  mouth  to  give  utterance 
to  some  commonplace  excuse,  when  the  door  opened  again, 
and  the  usher  announced  successively  the  Due  de  Bour- 
bon, the  Prince  de  Conti,  the  Due  de  Saint-Simon,  the 
Due  de  Guiche,  captain  of  the  guards,  the  Due  de  Noailles,' 
president  of  the  council  of  finance,  the  Due  d'Antin, 
superintendent  of  ships,  the  Marechal  d'Uxelles,  president 
of  the  council  of  foreign  affairs,  the  Bishop  of  Troyes,  the 
Marquis  de  Lavrilliere,  the  Marquis  d'Effiat,  the  Due  de 
Laforce,  the  Marquis  de  Torcy,  and  the  marshals  De 
Villeroy,  D'Estrees,  De  Villars,  ami  De  Bezons. 

As  these  grave  personages  were  gathered  together  to 
deliberate  upon  the  treaty  of  the  quadruple  alliance 
brought  from  London  by  Dubois,  and  as  the  treaty  of 
the  quadruple  alliance  figures  only  secondarily  in  this 
history,  our  readers  will  excuse  our  leaving  the  sumptu- 
ous reception-room  in  the  Palais  Royal,  to  lead  them 
back  to  the  attic  in  the  Rue  du  Temps-Perdu. 


THE  CONSPIRACY  IS  RENEWED.  249 


CHAPTER    XXII. 

THE    CONSPIRACY    IS    RENEWED. 

D'Harmental,  after  placing  his  hat  and  cloak  on  a  chair, 
his  pistols  on  his  table,  and  his  sword  under  his  pillow, 
threw  himself  dressed  on  his  bed ;  and  more  happy  than 
Damocles,  he  slept,  though,  like  Damocles,  threatened  by 
a  sword  which  hung  over  his  head  by  a  thread. 

When  he  awoke  it  was  broad  daylight,  and  as  the  evem 
ing  before  he  had  forgotten  to  close  his  shutters,  the  first 
thing  he  saw  was  a  ray  of  sunshine  playing  joyously 
across  his  room,  tracing  from  the  window  to  the  door 
a  brilliant  line  of  light  in  which  floated  a  thousand  atoms. 
D'Harmental  thought  that  he  had  been  dreaming  when 
he  found  himself  again  calm  and  tranquil  in  his  little 
room,  so  neat  and  clean,  while  he  might  have  been  at  that 
hour  in  some  gloomy  and  sombre  prison.  For  a  moment 
he  doubted  the  reality,  remembering  what  had  happened 
the  evening  before  ;  but  everything  was  still  there,  —  the 
red  ribbon,  the  hat  and  cloak  on  the  chair,  the  pistols  on 
the  table,  and  the  sword  under  the  pillow ;  and  as  a  last 
proof,  he  himself  was  still  there  in  the  costume  of  the 
day  before,  which  he  had  not  taken  off  for  fear  of  being 
surprised  by  some  nocturnal  visit. 

D'Harmental  jumped  from  his  bed.  His  first  look  was 
for  his  neighbor's  window ;  it  was  already  open,  and  he 
saw  Bathilde  passing  and  repassing  in  her  room.  He 
gave  his  second  look  to  his  mirror,  which  told  him  that 
conspiracies  agreed  with  him.     Indeed,  his  face  was  paler 


250  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

than  usual,  and  therefore  more  interesting ;  his  eyes  were 
rather  feverish,  and  therefore  more  expressive ;  so  that  it 
was  evident  that  when  he  had  smoothed  his  hair  and 
arranged  his  collar  and  cravat  he  would  be  a  most  in- 
teresting person  to  Bathilde.  D'Harmental  did  not  say 
this,  even  to  himself;  but  the  bad  instinct  which  always 
impels  our  poor  souls  to  evil  whispered  these  thoughts  to 
him,  —  vaguely  and  incompletely,  it  is  true,  and  yet  with 
so  much  force  that  when  he  went  to  his  toilet  he  suited 
his  dress  to  the  expression  of  his  face ;  that  is  to  say,  he 
dressed  himself  entirely  in  black,  his  hair  was  arranged 
with  a  charming  negligence,  and  he  left  his  waistcoat 
more  than  usually  open  to  give  place  to  his  shirt-frill, 
which  was  adjusted  with  a  grace  that  was  full  of  coquetry. 
All  this  was  done  without  intention  and  in  a  preoccupied 
and  careless  manner;  for  D'Harmental,  brave  as  he  was, 
could  not  help  remembering  that  at  any  minute  he  might 
be  arrested  ;  it  was  done  by  instinct,  so  that  when  the 
chevalier  gave  the  last  look  in  the  glass  before  leaving 
his  little  dressing-room,  he  smiled  at  himself  with  a  mel- 
ancholy which  doubled  the  charm  of  his  countenance. 
There  was  no  mistake  as  to  the  meaning  of  this  smile, 
for  he  went  directly  to  the  window  and  opened  it. 

Perhaps  Bathilde  had  also  her  projects  for  the  moment 
when  her  neighbor  should  reappear.  Perhaps  she  had 
arranged  a  defence  which  should  consist  in  not  looking 
toward  him,  or  in  closing  her  window  after  a  simple  recog- 
nition ;  but  at  the  noise  her  neighbor's  window  made  in 
opening,  all  was  forgotten,  and  she  ran  to  the  window, 
crying  out,  "  Ah,  there  you  are !  Mori  Dieu,  Monsieur, 
how  anxious  you  have  made  me !  " 

This  exclamation  was  ten  times  more  than  D'Harmen- 
tal had  hoped  for.  If  he,  on  his  part,  had  prepared  some 
well-turned  and  eloquent  phrases,  they  were  all  forgotten,  * 


THE  CONSPIRACY  IS  RENEWED.  251 

and  clasping  his  hands,  "  Bathilde  !  Bathilde ! "  he  cried, 
"  you   are,  then,  as  good  as  you  are  beautiful ! " 

"  Why  good  ] "  asked  Bathilde.  "  Did  you  not  tell  me 
that  if  I  was  an  orphan,  you  also  were  without  parents  1 
Did  you  not  say  that  I  was  your  sister,  and  you  were  my 
brother  1 " 

"Then,   Bathilde,   you  prayed  for  me1?" 

"  All  night,"  replied  the  young  girl,  blushing. 

"  And  I  thanked  chance  for  having  saved  me,  when  I 
owed  all  to  an  anger's   prayers  !  " 

"  The  danger  is  then  past  1 "  cried  Bathilde,  eagerly. 

"The  night  was  dark  and  gloomy,"  replied  D'Har- 
mental.  "  This  morning,  however,  I  was  awakened  by 
a  ray  of  sunshine,  which,  however,  a  cloud  may  again 
conceal.  So  it  is  with  the  danger  I  have  incurred;  it 
has  passed  away  to  give  place  to  a  great  happiness,  — 
that  of  knowing  you  have  thought  of  me ;  yet  it  may 
return.  Ah,"  he  continued,  hearing  steps  on  the  stair- 
case, "  there  it  is,  perhaps,  coming  to  knock  on  my  door." 

At  that  moment,  indeed,  some  one  knocked  three  times 
on  the  chevalier's  door. 

"  Who  is  there  1 "  asked  D'Harmental  from  the  win- 
dow, in  a  voice  which,  in  spite  of  all  his  firmness,  be- 
trayed some  emotion. 

"  A  friend,"  answered  a  voice. 

"  Well  1 "  asked  Bathilde,  with  anxiety. 

"  Thanks  to  you,  God  still  continues  to  protect  me ;  it 
is  a  friend  who  knocks.  Once  again,  thanks,  Bathilde." 
And  the  chevalier  closed  his  window,  sending  the  young 
girl  a  last  salute  which  was  very  like  a  kiss ;  then  he 
opened  the  door  to  admit  the  Abbe*  Brigaud,  who,  be- 
ginning to  be  impatient,  had  knocked  again. 

"  Well,"  said  the  abbe,  on  whose  face  it  was  impossible 
to  see  the  smallest  change,  "  what  has  happened,  then, 


252  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

my  dear  pupil,  that  you  are  shut  in  thus  by  bolts  and 
bars  1     Is  it  as  a  foretaste  of  the   Bastille  ] " 

"  Holloa,  Abbe  !  "  said  D'Harmental,  jovially,  as  if  to 
contend  with  the  abbe  in  indifference  to  the  dangers  that 
surrounded  them,  "  no  jokes  of  that  sort,  I  beg ;  they 
might  bring  misfortune." 

"  But  look !  look  !  "  said  Brigaud,  looking  around  ; 
"  would  not  any  one  suppose  that  a  conspirator  lived 
here  1  Pistols  on  the  table,  a  sword  on  the  pillow,  and 
a  hat  and  cloak  on  the  chair.  Ah,  my  dear  pupil,  you 
are  in  disorder  here,  it  appears  to  me.  Come,  put  all  this 
to  rights,  that  I  may  not  be  able  to  perceive,  when  I 
make  you  my  paternal  visit,  what  is  done  here  when 
I  am    not   present." 

D'Harmental  obeyed,  admiring  in  this  man  of  the 
Church  the  sang-froid  which  he  himself,  a  man  of  the 
sword,   found  it  difficult  to  obtain. 

"  Very  good,"  said  Brigaud,  watching  him.  "  And  this 
shoulder-knot  which  you  have  forgotten,  and  which  was 
never  made  for  you  (for  it  dates  from  the  time  when 
you  were  in  jackets),  put  it  away  too.  Who  knows  1  — 
you  may  want  it." 

"And  what  for,  Abbe  ?"  asked  D'Harmental,  laughing; 
"to  wear  at  the  regent's  levee?" 

"  Oh,  no,  but  for  a  signal  to  some  good  fellow  who  is 
passing.     Come,   put  it  away." 

"My  dear  Abbe,"  said  D'Harmental,  "if  you  are  not 
the  Devil  in  person,  you  are  at  least  one  of  his  most  inti- 
mate acquaintances." 

"  Oh,  no  !  I  am  a  poor  fellow  who  goes  his  own  quiet 
way,  and  who,  as  he  goes,  looks  high  and  low,  right  and 
left,  —  that  is  all.  Look,  there  is  a  ray  of  spring,  the 
first,  which  knocks  humbly  at  your  window,  and  you  do 
not  open  to  it ;   one  would  suppose  you  were  afraid  of 


THE  CONSPIRACY  IS  RENEWED.  253 

being  seen.  Ah,  pardon !  I  did  not  know  that  when 
your  window  is  opened,   another  must  close." 

"  My  dear  Abbe,  you  are  full  of  wit,"  replied  D'Har- 
mental, "  but  terribly  indiscreet ;  so  much  so,  that  if  you 
were  a  musketeer  instead  of  an  abbe,  I  should  seek  a 
quarrel  with   you." 

"A  quarrel !  And  why  the  devil  would  you  quarrel, 
my  dear  fellow  1  Because  I  wish  to  open  you  a  path  to 
glory,  fortune,  and  perhaps  love1?  Ah,  that  would  be 
monstrous  ingratitude  ! " 

"  Well,  let  us  be  friends,  Abbe,"  said  D'Harmental, 
offering  his  hand;  "and  I  shall  not  be  sorry  to  have 
some  news." 

"Of  what?" 

"  How  do  I  know  1  Of  the  Eue  des  Bons-Enfans, 
where  there  has  been  a  great  deal  going  on,  I  believe ; 
of  the  Arsenal,  where,  I  understand,  Madame  du  Maine 
has  given  a  soiree  ;  and  even  of  the  regent,  who,  if  I  may 
trust  a  dream  T  had,  came  back  to  the  Palais  Royal  very 
late  and  rather  agitated." 

"All  has  gone  well.  The  disturbance  in  the  Rue  des 
Bons-Enfans,  if  there  was  one,  has  quite  passed  by,  and 
the  street  is  still  this  morning ;  Madame  du  Maine  has  as 
much  gratitude  for  those  whom  important  affairs  kept 
away  from  the  Arsenal  as  she  has  contempt,  I  am  sure, 
for  those  who  were  there;  finally,  the  regent,  dreaming 
last  night,  as  usual,  that  he  was  King  of  France,  has 
already  forgotten  that  he  almost  became  a  prisoner  of 
the  King  of  Spain.     Now  we  must  begin  again." 

"Ah,  pardon,  Abbe,"  said  D'Harmental;  "but,  with 
your  permission,  it  is  the  turn  of  the  others.  I  shall  not 
be  sorry  to  rest  a  little  myself." 

"  Ah,  that  goes  badly  with  the  news  I  bring  you." 

"What  news?" 


254  LE  CHEVALIER   D'HARMENTAL. 

"  It  was  decided  last  night  that  you  should  leave  for 
Brittany  this  morning." 

"  For  Brittany  !     And  what  to  do  there  % " 

"You  will  know  when  you  are  there." 

"  And  if  I  do  not  wish  to  go  1 " 

"  You  will  reflect,  and  go  just  the  same." 

"  And  on  what  shall  I  reflect  1  " 

"  That  it  would  be  the  act  of  a  madman  to  interrupt  an 
enterprise  near  its  end  for  a  love  only  at  its  beginning,  — 
to  abandon  the  interests  of  a  princess  of  the  blood  to  gaiii 
the  good  graces  of  a  grisette." 

"  Abbe  !  "  said  D'Harmental. 

"  Oh,  we  must  not  get  angry,  my  dear  Chevalier ;  we 
must  reason.  You  engaged  voluntarily  in  the  affair  we 
have  in  hand,  and  you  promised  to  aid  us  in  it.  Would 
it  be  loyal  to  abandon  us  now  for  a  repulse  1  No,  no,  my 
dear  pupil ;  you  must  have  a  little  more  connection  in 
your  ideas  if  you  mix  in  a  conspiracy." 

"  It  is  just  because  I  have  connection  in  my  ideas,"  re- 
plied D'Harmental,  "that  this  time,  as  at  first,  before 
undertaking  anything  new,  I  wish  to  know  what  it  is. 
I  offered  myself  to  be  the  arm,  it  is  true ;  but  before 
striking,  the  arm  must  know  what  the  head  has  decided. 
I  risk  my  liberty ;  I  risk  my  life ;  I  risk  something  per- 
haps dearer  to  me  still.  I  will  risk  all  this  in  my  own 
manner,  with  my  eyes  open,  and  not  closed.  Tell  me 
first  what  I  am  to  do  in  Brittany,  and  then  —  well,  per- 
haps I  will  go." 

"  Your  orders  are  that  you  should  go  to  Rennes.  There 
you  will  unseal  this  letter,  and  find  your  instructions." 

"  My  orders  !  my  instructions  !  " 

"  Are  not  these  the  terms  which  a  general  uses  to  his 
officers  1  And  are  they  in  the  habit  of  disputing  the  com- 
mands they  receive  1 " 


THE  CONSPIRACY  IS  RENEWED.  255 

"  Not  when  they  are  in  the  service ;  but  you  know  I 
am  in  it  no  longer." 

"It  is  true.  I  forgot  to  tell  you  that  you  have  re- 
entered it." 

"I?" 

"Yes,  you.  I  have  your  commission  in  my  pocket." 
And  Brigaud  drew  from  his  pocket  a  parchment,  which 
he  presented  to  D'Harmental,  who  unfolded  it  slowly, 
questioning  Brigaud  with   his  looks. 

"A  commission  I"  cried  the  chevalier;  "a  commission 
as  colonel  in  one  of  the  four  regiments  of  carabineers ! 
Whence  comes  this  commission'?" 

"  Look  at  the  signature,  pardieu  !  " 

"  Louis- Auguste  !     Monsieur  le  Due  du  Maine  !  " 

"  Well,  what  is  there  astonishing  in  that  ]  As  grand 
master  of  artillery,  he  has  the  disposal  of  twelve  regi- 
ments. He  gives  you  one  of  them  to  replace  that  which 
was  taken  from  you,  and  as  your  general,  he  sends  you 
on  a  mission.  Is  it  customary  for  soldiers  in  such  a  case 
to  refuse  the  honor  their  chief  does  them  in  thinking  of 
them  %     I  am  a  churchman,  and  do  not  know." 

"Xo,  no,  my  dear  Abbe.  It  is,  on  the  contrary,  the 
duty  of  every  officer  of  the  king  to  obey  his  chief." 

"  Without  considering,"  replied  Brigaud,  carelessly, 
"  that  in  case  the  conspiracy  failed,  you  would  only  have 
obeyed  orders,  and  might  throw  the  whole  responsibility 
of  your  actions  on  another." 

"  Abbe  !  "  cried  D'Harmental  a  second  time. 

"  Well,  if  you  do  not  go,  I  shall  make  you  feel  the  spur." 

"Yes,  I  am  going.  Excuse  me;  but  there  are  some 
moments  when  I  am  half  mad.  I  am  now  at  the  orders 
of  Monsieur  du  Maine,  or  rather  of  Madame.  May  I  not 
see  her  before  I  go,  to  fall  at  her  feet  and  tell  her  that  I 
am  ready  to  sacrifice  my  life  at  a  word  from  her]" 


256  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

"  There,  now  you  are  going  into  the  opposite  extreme. 
But  no,  you  must  not  die ;  you  must  live,  —  live  to  tri- 
umph over  our  enemies,  and  wear  a  beautiful  uniform, 
with  which  you  will  turn  all  the  women's  heads." 

"  Oh,  my  dear  Brigaud,  there  is  but  one  I  wish  to 
please." 

"Well,  you  shall  please  her  first,  and  the  others 
afterward." 

"  When  must  I  go  V ' 

"  This  instant." 

"  You  will  give  me  half  an  hour? " 

"  Not  a  second." 

"  But  I  have  not  breakfasted." 

"  You  shall  come  and  breakfast  with  me." 

"  I  have  only  two  or  three  thousand  francs  here,  and 
that  is  not  enough." 

"  You  will  find  a  year's  pay  in  your  carriage." 

"  And  clothes  V 

"Your  trunks  are  full.  Had  I  not  your  measure? 
You  will  not  be  discontented  with   my  tailor." 

"  But  at  least,  Abbe,  tell  me  when  I  may  return." 

"  In  six  weeks  to  a  day,  the  Duchesse  du  Maine  will 
expect  you  at  Sceaux." 

"  But  at  least  you  will  permit  me  to  write  a  couple  of 
lines." 

"Well,  I  will  not  be  too  exacting." 

The  chevalier  sat  down  and  wrote, — 

Dear  Bathilde,  —  To-day  it  is  more  than  a  danger  which 
threatens  me  ;  it  is  a  misfortune  which  overtakes  me.  I  am 
forced  to  leave  this  instant,  without  seeing  you,  without  bid- 
ding you  adieu.  I  shall  be  six  weeks  absent.  In  the  name 
of  Heaven,  Bathilde,  do  not  forget  him  who  will  not  pass  an 
hour  without  thinking  of  you  1 

Raoul. 


THE  CONSPIRACY  IS  RENEWED.  257 

This  letter  written,  folded,  and  sealed,  the  chevalier  rose 
and  went  to  the  window ;  but  as  we  have  said,  that  of  his 
neighbor  was  closed  when  Brigaud  appeared.  There  was 
then  no  way  of  sending  to  Bathilde  the  despatch  destined 
for  her.  D'Harmental  made  an  impatient  gesture.  At 
this  moment  they  heard  a  scratching  at  the  door.  The 
abbe  opened  it,  and  Mirza,  who,  guided  by  her  instinct 
and  her  greediness,  had  found  her  way  to  the  giver  of  the 
bonbons,  appeared  on  the  threshold  and  entered  the 
room,   making  lively  demonstrations  of  joy. 

"  Well,"  said  Brigaud,  "  who  shall  say  God  is  not  good 
to  lovers  1     You  wanted  a  messenger,  and  here  is  one." 

"Abbe,  Abbe,"  said  D'Harmental,  shaking  his  head, 
"  do  not  enter  into  my  secrets  before  I  wish  it." 

"  Oh;"  replied  Brigaud,  "  a  confessor,  you  know,  is  an 
abyss." 

"  Then  not  a  word  will  pass  your  lips  ? " 

"  On  my  honor,  Chevalier." 

D'Harmental  tied  the  letter  to  Mirza's  neck,  and  gave  her 
a  piece  of  sugar  as  a  reward  for  the  commission  she  was 
about  to  accomplish ;  and  half  sad  at  having  lost  his 
beautiful  neighbor  for  six  weeks,  half  glad  at  having  re- 
gained his  beautiful  uniform,  he  took  his  money,  put 
his  pistols  into  his  pockets,  fastened  on  his  sword,  took 
his  hat  and  cloak,  and  followed  the  Abbe*  Brigaud. 


17 


258  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 


CHAPTER   XXIII. 

THE   ORDER   OF    THE   HONEY-BEE. 

At  the  appointed  day  and  hour,  —  that  is  to  say,  six  weeks 
after  his  departure  from  the  capital,  and  at  four  o'clock  in 
the  afternoon,  —  D'Harmental,  returning  from  Brittany, 
entered  the  courtyard  of  the  Palace  of  Sceaux,  with  his 
post-horses  going  at  full  gallop.  Servants  in  full  livery 
waited  on  the  doorstep,  and  everything  announced  prepa- 
rations for  a  fete.  D'Harmental  entered,  crossed  the  hall, 
and  found  himself  in  a  large  room,  where  about  twenty 
persons  were  assembled,  standing  in  groups  talking,  while 
waiting  for  the  mistress  of  the  house. 

There  were,  among  others,  the  Comte  de  Laval,  the 
Marquis  de  Pompadour,  the  poet  Saint-Genest,  the  old 
Abbe  de  Chaulieu,  Saint-Aulaire,  Madame  de  Rohan, 
Madame  de  Croissy,  Madame  de  Charost,  and  Madame 
de  Brissac. 

D'Harmental  went  straight  to  the  Marquis  de  Pompa- 
dour, the  member  of  this  noble  and  intelligent  assembly 
with  whom  he  was  best  acquainted.  They  shook  hands. 
Then  D'Harmental,  drawing  him  aside,  said,  "My  dear 
Marquis,  can  you  tell  me  how  it  is  that  where  I  expected 
to  find  only  a  dull  political  assembly  I  find  preparations 
for  a  fate?" 

"  Faith,  I  know  nothing  about  it,  my  dear  Chevalier," 
replied  Pompadour ;  "and  I  am  as  astonished  as  you  are. 
I  have  just  returned  from  Normandy  myself." 

"  Ah  !  you  also  have  just  arrived  1  " 


THE  ORDER  OF  THE  HONEY-BEE.      259 

"  This  instant.  I  asked  the  same  question  of  Laval ; 
but  he  has  just  arrived  from  Switzerland,  and  knows  no 
more  than  we  do." 

At  this  moment  the  Baron  de  Valef  was  announced. 

"  Ah,  pardieu  /  now  we  shall  know,"  continued  Pompa- 
dour. "  Valef  is  so  intimate  with  the  duchess  he  will  be 
able  to  tell  us." 

Valef,  recognizing  them,  came  toward  them.  D'Har- 
mental  and  Valef  had  not  seen  each  other  since  the  day 
of  the  duel  with  which  this  history  opened,  so  that  they 
met  with  pleasure;  then  after  exchanging  compliments, 
"My  dear  Valef,"  said  D'Harmental,  "can  you  tell  me 
what  is  the  meaning  of  this  great  assembly,  when  I  ex- 
pected to  find  only  a  select  committee  1" 

"  Faith,  I  know  nothing  about  it,"  said  Valef;  "I  have 
just  come  from  Madrid." 

"Every  one  has  just  arrived  from  somewhere,"  said 
Pompadour,  laughing.  "  Ah,  here  is  Malezieux  !  I  hope 
he  has  been  no  farther  than  Dombes  or  Chatenay ;  and 
since,  in  any  case,  he  must  have  returned  by  way  of 
Madame  du  Maine's  chamber,  we  shall  have  some  news 
at  last." 

At  these  words  Pompadour  made  a  sign  to  Malezieux, 
but  the  worthy  chancellor  was  so  gallant  that  before  obey- 
ing it  he  must  acquit  himself  of  his  duty  toward  the 
ladies.  After  he  had  bowed  to  them,  he  came  toward  the 
group  formed  by  Pompadour,  D'Harmental,  and  Valef. 

"  Come,  my  dear  Malezieux,"  said  Pompadour,  "  we  are 
waiting  for  you  most  impatiently.  We  have  just  arrived 
from  the  four  quarters  of  the  globe,  it  appears,  —  Valef 
from  the  south,  D'Harmental  from  the  west,  Laval  from 
the  east,  I  from  the  north,  you  from  I  don't  know  where  ; 
so  that  we  confess  that  we  are  very  curious  to  know  what 
we  are  expected  to  do  here  at  Sceaux." 


260  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL.     ' 

"  You  have  come  to  assist  at  a  great  solemnity,  —  at 
the  reception  of  a  new  knight  of  the  Order  of  the  Honey- 
Bee." 

"  Peste /"  said  D'Harmental,  a  little  piqued  that  they 
should  not  have  left  him  time  to  go  to  the  Rue  du  Temps- 
Perdu  before  coming  to  Sceaux  ;  "I  understand  now  why 
Madame  du  Maine  told  us  to  be  so  exact  to  the  ren- 
dezvous. As  to  myself,  I  am  very  grateful  to  her 
Highness." 

"First  of  all,  you  must  know,  young  man,"  interrupted 
Malezieux,  "  that  there  is  no  Madame  du  Maine  nor  High- 
ness in  the  question.  There  is  only  the  beautiful  fairy 
Ludovise,  the  queen  of  the  Bees,  whom  every  one  must 
obey  blindly.  Now,  our  queen  is  all-wise  as  well  as  all- 
powerful  ;  and  when  you  know  who  is  the  knight  we  are 
to  receive,  you  will  not  regret  your  diligence." 

"  And  who  is  it  1 "  asked  Valef,  who,  arriving  from  the 
greatest  distance,  was  naturally  the  most  anxious  to  know 
why  he  had  been  summoned  home. 

"  His  Excellency  the  Prince  de  Cellamare." 

'•'Ah,"  said  Pompadour,  "I  begin  to  understand." 

"And  I,"  said  Valef. 

"  And  I,"  said  D'Harmental. 

"Very  well,"  said  Malezieux,  smiling;  "  and  before  the 
end  of  the  evening  you  will  understand  still  better ; 
meanwhile,  do  not  try  to  see  further.  It  is  not  the 
first  time  you  have  entered  with  your  eyes  bandaged,  is 
it,  Monsieur  d'Harmental  V 

Malezieux  then  advanced  toward  a  little  man  with 
a  flat  face,  flowing  hair,  and  a  discontented  expression, 
who  seemed  quite  embarrassed  at  finding  himself  in  so 
noble  company,  and  whom  D'Harmental  saw  then  for 
the  first  time.  He  therefore  asked  Pompadour  who  that 
little  man  was.     Pompadour  replied  that  it  was  the  poet 


THE  ORDER  OF  THE  HONEY-BEE.      261 

Lagrange-Chancel.  The  young  men  looked  at  the  new- 
comer with  a  curiosity  mixed  with  disgust ;  then  turning 
away,  and  leaving  Pompadour  to  advance  toward  the  Car- 
dinal de  Polignac,  who  entered  at  this  moment,  they  went 
into  the  embrasure  of  a  window  to  talk  over  the  occur- 
rences of  the  evening. 

The  Order  of  the  Honey-Bee  had  been  founded  by 
Madame  du  Maine,  in  allusion  to  the  motto  printed  in 
Tasso's  "  Aminta,"  and  which  she  had  adopted  on  the  oc- 
casion of  her  marriage,  "  Piccola  si,  ma  fa  puo  gravi  le 
ferite,"  —  a  motto  which  Malezieux,  in  the  constancy  of 
his  poetical  devotion  to  the  granddaughter  of  the  great 
Cond6,  had  translated  as  follows  :  — 

"  The  bee,  though  very  small, 

Can  do  great  things. 
Respect  its  fatal  thrust  ; 

Avoid  its  stings. 
Flee,  if  you  can,  the  darts 

That  in  its  body  lie  ; 
It  stings  and  takes  to  wing,  — 

It  is  a  cunning  fly." 

This  order  had,  like  others,  its  decorations,  its  officers, 
and  its  grand-master.  The  decoration  was  a  medal,  repre- 
senting on  one  side  a  hive,  and  on  the  other  the  queen- 
bee  ;  it  was  hung  by  a  lemon-colored  ribbon,  and  was 
worn  by  every  knight  whenever  he  came  to  Sceaux.  The 
officers  were  Malezieux,  Saint- Aulaire,  the  Abbe  de  Chau- 
lieu,  and  Saint-Genest.  Madame  du  Maine  was  grand- 
master. 

It  was  composed  of  thirty -nine  members,  and  could  not 
exceed  this  number.  The  death  of  Monsieur  de  Nevers 
had  left  a  vacancy,  which  was  to  be  filled  by  the  nomina- 
tion of  the  Prince  de  Cellamare.  The  fact  was  that 
Madame   du   Maine  had  thought  it  safer  to  cover  this 


262  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

political  meeting  with  a  frivolous  pretext,  feeling  sure 
that  a  fete  in  the  gardens  at  Sceaux  would  appear 
less  suspicious  in  the  eyes  of  Dubois  and  Messire 
Voyer  d'Argenson  than  an  assembly  at  the  Arsenal. 
And  therefore,  as  will  be  seen,  nothing  had  been 
forgotten  to  give  its  old  splendor  to  the  Order  of  the 
Honey-Bee. 

At  four  o'clock  precisely,  the  time  fixed  for  the  cere- 
mony, the  doors  of  the  salon  were  opened,  and  in  a  gal- 
lery hung  with  crimson  satin,  which  was  spangled  with 
silver  bees,  the  beautiful  fairy  Ludovise  appeared,  seated 
on  a  throne  raised  on  three  steps.  Her  small  stature  and 
the  delicacy  of  her  features,  even  more  than  the  golden 
wand  in  her  hand,  gave  her  the  appearance  of  the  aerial 
being  whose  name  she  had  assumed.  She  made  a  gesture 
with  her  hand,  and  all  her  court,  passing  from  the  salon 
into  the  gallery,  arranged  themselves  in  a  half-circle  round 
her  throne,  on  the  steps  of  which  the  dignitaries  of  the 
order  placed  themselves. 

"When  every  one  had  taken  his  place,  a  side-door  was 
opened,  and  Bessac,  an  ensign  in  the  guards  of  Monsieur 
du  Maine,  entered,  wearing  the  costume  of  a  herald,  — . 
a  cherry-colored  robe,  adorned  with  silver-bees,  and  a  hel- 
met in  the  form  of  a  hive,  —  and  announced  in  a  loud 
voice,  "  His  Excellency  the  Prince  de  Cellamare." 

The  prince  entered,  advanced  gravely  toward  the  queen 
of  the  Bees,  bent  one  knee  upon  the  first  step  of  the 
throne,   and  waited.1 

"  Prince  de  Samarcand,"  said  the  herald,  "  give  atten- 
tive ear  to  the  rules  of  the  order  which  the  great  fairy 

1  We  need  not  inform  our  readers  that  these  details  are  entirely  his- 
toric, and  that  we  neither  invent  nor  imitate  ;  they  are  copied  as  they 
stand,  not  from  uLe  Malade  Imaginaire,"  nor  from  "Le  Bourgeois 
Gentilhomme*"  but  from  "Les  Divertissements  de  Sceaux." 


THE  ORDER  OF  THE  HONEY-BEE.       2G3 

Ludovise  deigns  to  confer  on  you,  and  consider  well  what 
you  are  about  to  do." 

The  prince  bowed,  to  indicate  that  he  understood  all 
the  importance  of  the  engagements  he  was  about  to 
undertake. 

The  herald  continued  :  — 

"Article  First  You  promise  and  swear  inviolable  fidel- 
ity and  blind  obedience  to  the  perpetual  dictatress  of  the 
incomparable  Order  of  the  Honey-Bee.  Swear  by  the 
sacred  Mount  Hymettus." 

At  that  moment  music  was  heard  issuing  from  a  hidden 
source,  and  invisible  musicians  chanted  :  — 

"  Swear,  nobleman  of  Samarcand  ; 
Swear,  worthy  son  of  the  Grand  Khan." 

"  I  swear  it  by  the  sacred  Mount  Hymettus,"  said  the 
prince. 

Then  the  choir  responded,  and  the  voices  of  all  present 
joined  with  it  in  singing  :  — 

"  II  principe  di  Samarcand, 
II  digno  figlio  del  Gran'  Khan, 
Ha  giurato  : 
Sia  ricevuto." 

After  this  refrain  had  been  sung  three  times,  the  herald 
resumed :  — 

"  Article  Second.  You  promise  and  swear  to  be  present 
at  the  enchanted  palace  of  Sceaux,  headquarters  of  the 
Order  of  the  Honey-Bee,  whenever  there  shall  be  a  session 
of  the  chapter,  —  leaving  all  other  affairs,  and  not  seeking 
to  be  excused  on  any  trivial  pretext,  such  as  gout,  excess 
of  phlegm,  or  Burgundy  itch.1 

1  With  all  our  researches  we  have  been  able  to  discover  neither  the 
cause  nor  the  effect  of  this  disease.  , 


264  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

The  choir  sang  :  — 

"  Swear,  prince  of  Samarcand ; 
Swear,  worthy  son  of  the  Grand  Khan." 

"  I  swear  it  by  the  sacred  Mount  Hymettus,"  said  the 
prince. 

The  herald  continued  :  — 

"Article  Third.  You  promise  and  swear  to  learn  all 
contra-dances  of  every  kind,  and  to  dance  them  on  all  oc- 
casions, especially  on  dog-days,  and  not  to  stop  dancing,' 
unless  so  ordered,  till  the  perspiration  comes  through  your 
clothes  and  foam  stands  on  your  lips." 

"  Swear,  prince  of  Samarcand  ; 
Swear,  worthy  son  of  the  Grand  Khan." 

"  I  swear  it  by  the  sacred  Mount  Hymettus." 
°  Article  Fourth.     You  promise  and  swear  to  scale  gal- 
lantly all  hay-stacks,  however  high  they  may  be,  and  not 
to  be  checked  by  fear  of  falls,  however  frightful." 

"  Swear,  prince  of  Samarcand  ; 
Swear,  worthy  son  of  the  Grand  Khan." 

"  I  swear  it  by  the  sacred  Mount  Hymettus." 
"  Article  Fifth.  You  promise  and  swear  to  take  under 
your  protection  honey-bees  of  every  kind,  to  do  no  harm 
to  any  one  of  them,  and  bravely  to  allow  them  to  sting 
you  without  brushing  them  away,  whatever  part  of  your 
person  they  may  attack." 

"  Swear,  prince  of  Samarcand  ; 
Swear,  worthy  son  of  the  Grand  Khan. " 

"  I  swear  it  by  the  sacred  Mount  Hymettus." 
"  Article  Sixth.     You  promise  and  swear  to  respect  the 
chief  work  of  honey-bees,  and  following  the  example  of 


THE  ORDER  OF  THE  HONEY-BEE.  265 

our  grand  dictatress,  to  hold  in  horror  the  profane  use 
made  of  it  by  apothecaries,  even  though  you  should  be 
bursting  with  repletion." 

"  Swear,  prince  of  Samarcand  ; 
Swear,  worthy  son  of  the  Grand  Khan." 

"  I  swear  it  by  the  sacred  Mount  Hymettus." 
"  Article  Seventh  and  Last.  You  promise  and  swear 
carefully  to  keep  the  glorious  badge  of  your  dignity,  and 
never  to  appear  before  your  dictatress  without  having  on 
your  side  the  medal  with  which  she  is  about  to  honor 
you." 

"  Swear,  prince  of  Samarcand  ; 
Swear,  worthy  son  of  the  Grand  Khan." 

"  I  swear  it  by  the  sacred  Mount  Hymettus." 
As  soon  as  this  last  vow  was  sworn  to,  all  joined  in 
singing  :  — 

"II  principe  di  Samarcand, 
II  digno  figlio  del  Gran'  Khan, 
Ha  giurato  ; 
Sia  ricevuto. " 

The  fairy  Ludovise  then  rose,  and  taking  from  the 
hands  of  Malezieux  the  medal,  attached  to  a  lemon-col- 
ored ribbon,  she  made  a  sign  to  the  prince  to  approach, 
and  repeated  the  following  lines,  the  merit  of  which  was 
enhanced  by  the  significance  of  the  situation :  — 

"Worthy  envoy  of  a  grand  monarch, 
Receive  from  me  the  glorious  mark 
Of  the  order  promised  you. 

Thessandre,  be  informed  by  me 
That,  numbered  now  among  my  friends, 

You  are  made  a  knight  of  the  Honey- Bee." 

The  prince  kneeled,  and  the  fairy  Ludovise  passed  the 


266  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

ribbon  around  his  neck.     At  the  same  moment  all  began 
to  sing :  — 

"Viva  sempre,  viva,  et  in  onore  cresca 
II  novo  cavaliere  della  Mosca." 

Two  folding-doors  were  then  thrown  open,  disclosing  to 
view  a  magnificent  supper,  served  in  a  hall  splendidly 
illuminated. 

The  new  knight  of  the  Bee  offered  his  hand  to  the  die- 
tatress,  the  fairy  Ludovise,  and  they  moved  toward  the 
supper-room,  followed  by  the  other  guests.  But  at  the 
door  they  were  stopped  by  a  beautiful  child,  in  the  guise 
of  Love,  who  held  in  his  hand  a  glass  globe,  containing 
a  small  roll  of  paper  for  every  guest.  It  was  a  lottery  of  a 
novel  kind,  —  a  worthy  sequel  to  the  ceremony  we  have 
described. 

Among  the  tickets  in  this  lottery  there  were  ten  on 
which  were  written  the  words,  "Song,"  "Madrigal," 
"  Epigram,"  "  Impromptu,"  etc.  Those  to  whom  these 
tickets  fell  were  expected  to  acquit  themselves  of  the 
obligations  thus  imposed  on  them  during  the  repast. 
The  rest  were  under  no  obligation  except  to  applaud, 
to  drink,   and  to  eat. 

On  seeing  this  poetic  lottery,  the  four  ladies  claimed 
exemption  on  the  score  of  incompetency;  but  Madame 
du  Maine  declared  that  no  one  should  be  exempt.  The 
ladies,  however,  were  authorized  to  choose  each  a  col- 
laborator, who,  in  exchange,  should  be  entitled  to  a  kiss. 
It  will  be  seen  that  nothing  could  be  more  pastoral. 

That  amendment  to  the  law  having  been  made,  the 
fairy  Ludovise  first  put  her  little  hand  into  the  glass 
globe  and  took  from  it  a  paper  which  she  unrolled ;  it 
contained  the  word  "Impromptu." 

The  others  then  drew ;  but  whether  by  chance  or  by 
adroit  contrivance  the   poetical   tasks  fell  almost  exclu- 


THE  ORDER  OF  THE  HONEY-BEE.      267 

sively  to  Chaulieu,  Saint-Genest,  Malezieux,  Saint-Aulaire, 
and  Lagrange-Chancel. 

Madame  de  Croissy,  Madame  de  Rohan,  and  Madame 
de  Brissac  drew  the  other  lots  and  immediately  chose  for 
collaborators  Malezieux,  Saint-Genest,  and  the  Abbe  de 
Chaulieu,  who  thus  found  themselves  burdened  with  a 
double  task. 

As  to  D'Harmental,  he  had  drawn,  to  his  great  delight, 
a  blank  ticket,  which,  as  we  have  said,  limited  his  obliga- 
tions to  applauding,  drinking,  and  eating. 

This  little  operation  being  concluded,  each  person  took 
the  place  at  the  table  designated  in  advance  by  a  card 
bearing  his  name. 


268  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

THE    POETS    OP    THE   REGENCY. 

In  justice  to  Madame  la  Duchesse  du  Maine  it  must  be 
said  that  this  famous  lottery,  which  recalled  the  best 
days  of  the  Hotel  Rambouillet,  was  not  so  ridiculous  as 
to  a  superficial  view  it  might  appear.  In  the  first  place, 
trivial  verses,  sonnets,  and  epigrams  were  very  much  in 
fashion  at  that  period,  whose  barrenness  they  faithfully 
reflected.  That  great  flame  of  poetry  kindled  by  Cor- 
neille  and  Racine  was  dying  out,  and  its  rays,  which  had 
lighted  the  world,  had  dwindled  to  a  few  feeble  sparks, 
which  shone  in  a  social  circle,  ran  through  a  dozen  small 
assemblies,  and  then  expired.  And  then  there  was  still 
another  motive  for  this  competition,  besides  that  of  fash- 
ion. Five  or  six  persons  only  were  acquainted  with  the 
real  purpose  of  the  fete,  and  it  was  necessary  to  fill  with 
trivial  amusements  the  two  hours  of  the  repast. 

During  the  early  part  of  the  banquet  the  guests  were, 
as  is  usual,  cold  and  silent ;  but  presently  arose  the  light, 
buzzing  sound  which  is  the  prelude  to  a  general  conver- 
sation. The  beautiful  fairy  Ludovise,  preoccupied  doubt- 
less with  the  impromptu  which  the  lottery  had  assigned 
to  her,  and  unwilling  to  encourage  the  bad  example  of 
choosing  a  collaborator,  was  silent,  and  that  silence  natu- 
rally cast  a  shade  of  gloom  upon  the  banquet. 

Malezieux  saw  that  it  was  time  to  pluck  up  the  evil  by 
the  roots,  and  addressing  himself  to  the  Duchesse  du 
Maine,  "Beautiful  fairy  Ludovise,"  said  he,  "your  sub- 


THE  POETS  OF  THE  REGENCY.  269 

jectg  complain  bitterly  of  your  silence,  to  which  you  have 
not  accustomed  them,  and  have  charged  me  to  bear  their 
complaint  to  the  foot  of  your  throne." 

"Alas,"  said  the  duchess,,  "you  see,  my  dear  Chan- 
cellor, I  am  like  the  crow  in  the  fable,  who  wished  to 
imitate  the  eagle  and  carry  off  a  lamb.  I  am  caught  by 
my  impromptu  and  am  unable  to  free  myself." 

"  Then,"  replied  Malezieux,  "  permit  me,  for  the  first 
time,  to  anathematize  the  laws  imposed  by  you.  But  you 
have  so  accustomed  us,  beautiful  Princess,  to  the  sound 
of  your  voice  and  the  charm  of  your  wit  that  we  can- 
not get  along  without  them. 

"  Each  word  that  cometh  from  thee 
Is  as  thrilling  as  words  can  be,  — 
A  thousand  ways  sublime. 

Pardon,  Princess,  if  I  choose 
To  sing  thy  praise  in  rhyme, 

Who  withhold'st  from  us  thy  prose." 

"  My  dear  Malezieux,"  cried  the  duchess,  "  I  place  your 
impromptu  to  my  own  account.  And  now  my  debt  to 
the  company  is  paid ;  I  owe  no  one  anything  except  a 
kiss  to  you." 

"  Bravo  !  "  cried  all  the  guests. 

"  And  now,  gentlemen,"  said  the  duchess,  "  from  this 
moment,  no  more  private  conversation ;  each  owes  him- 
self to  all.  Come,  my  Apollo,"  she  continued,  turn- 
ing toward  Saint-Aulaire,  who  was  conversing  in  a  low 
tone  with  Madame  de  Rohan,  "  we  will  begin  our  inqui- 
sition with  you.  Tell  us  aloud  the  secret  you  whispered 
just  now  to  your  beautiful  neighbor." 

It  appeared  that  the  secret  was  not  of  a  kind  to  be 
repeated  aloud;  for  Madame  de  Rohan  blushed  to  the 
whites  of  her  eyes,  and  made  a  sign  to  Saint-Aulaire  to 
be  silent.     The  latter  reassured  her  by  a  gesture,  and  then 


270  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

turning  toward  the  duchess,  to  whom  he  owed  a  madrigal, 
"  Madame,"  said  he,  replying  in  his  turn,  and  at  the  same 
time  acquitting  himself  of  the  obligation  imposed  by  the 
lottery,  — 

"  The  goddess  who  pleases  herself 
By  asking  my  secret  from  me, 
If  I  were  Apollo,  would  not  be  my  muse  ; 
Till  the  end  of  the  day  she  Thetis  would  be." 

This  madrigal,  which  five  years  later  would  have  made 
Saint-Aulaire  a  member  of  the  Academy,  had  such  success 
that  for  some  moments  no  one  dared  to  follow  him,  and 
after  the  applause  had  ceased,  there  was  silence.  The 
duchess  broke  the  silence  by  reproaching  Laval  for  not 
eating. 

"You  forget  my  jaw,"  said  Laval,  pointing  to  the 
bandage  around   his  chin. 

"  We  forget  your  wound  !  "  replied  Madame  du  Maine, 
—  "  a  wound  received  in  the  defence  of  the  country,  and 
in  the  service  of  our  illustrious  father,  Louis  XIV.  !  You 
mistake,  my  dear  Laval ;  it  is  the  regent  who  has  forgotten 
it." 

"  In  any  case,"  said  Malezieux,  "  it  seems  to  me,  my 
dear  Count,  that  a  wound  so  well  placed  is  a  reason  for 
pride  rather  than  regret. 

"  Mars  has  struck  thee  with  his  thunder, 
'Mid  a  thousand  scenes  of  wonder, 
Worthy  of  Laval's  great  name. 

Still  thou  hast  a  throat  for  drinking ; 
That 's  the  main  thing,  to  my  thinking. 

Be  glad  that  organ 's  still  the  same." 

"Yes,"  said  the  Cardinal  de  Polignac,  "but  if  the 
present  weather  continues,  my  dear  Malezieux,  Laval's 
throat  runs  great  risk  of  not  swallowing  any  wine  this 
year." 


THE  POETS  OF  THE  REGENCY.  271 

"  How  is  that  ? "  asked  Chaulieu,  with  anxiety. 

"  '  How  is  that,  % f  my  dear  Anacreon.  Do  you  not  know 
what  is  going  on  in  the  sky  1 " 

"Alas,"  said  Chaulieu,  turning  toward  the  duchess, 
"your  Eminence  is  aware  that  I  can  no  longer  see  the 
sky  well  enough  to  distinguish  the  stars ;  but  I  am  only 
the  more  concerned  for  what  happens  there." 

"  It  happens  that  my  vine-dressers  write  me  from  Bur- 
gundy that  everything  is  burned  up  by  the  sun,  and  that 
the  approaching  harvest  is  ruined  if  we  remain  a  few  days 
longer  without  rain." 

"  Do  you  hear,  Chaulieu  1 "  asked  Madame  du  Maine, 
laughing.  "  They  want  rain,  and  you  have  such  a  horror 
of  water !     Do  you  hear  what  his  Eminence  says  1 " 

"  Oh,  very  true,"  said  Chaulieu ;  "  but  there  is  a  way 
to  harmonize  all  wishes. 

"  Water  is  hateful  to  me,  my  dear; 
I  'm  angry  when  it  comes  too  near, 
And  shudder  like  a  man  deranged. 

And  yet,  in  spite  of  all  my  pain, 
To-day  I  find  my  heart  is  changed,  — 

Our  vines  are  crying  out  for  rain. 

"  Heaven,  give  rain  with  generous  hand  ; 
Pour  out  water  o'er  the  land, 
Now,  alas,  dried  up  all  over. 

But  when  these  rains  shall  come  to  pass, 
I  '11  do  my  drinking  under  cover, 

Lest  some  should  fall  into  my  glass." 

"  But  we  want  no  rain  to-night ! "  cried  the  duchess. 
"  It  would  derange  the  entertainment  which  our  good  De 
Launay  is  at  this  moment  preparing  in  our  gardens." 

"Ah,  that  explains  why  our  amiable  prodigy  is  not 
with  us,"  said  Pompadour.  "  She  is  sacrificing  herself 
for  us,  and  we  forget  her !     We  are  ungrateful.     To  her 


272  LE  CHEVALIER  D?HARMENTAL. 

health,  Chaulieu  !  "  And  Pompadour  raised  his  glass,  — 
a  movement  immediately  imitated  by  the  sexagenarian 
lover  of  the  future  Madame  de  Staal. 

"  One  moment !  one  moment !  "  cried  Malezieux,  hold- 
ing out  his  empty  glass  to  Saint-Genest.  "  Peste  I  don't 
leave  me  out! 

"  I  maintain  that  a  solid  mind 
"Will  no  good  in  emptiness  find. 
As  for  me,  I  scorn  and  flout  it, 

And  will  fight  it  at  every  pass. 
Since  there  may  be  some  who  doubt  it, 

Saint-Genest,  fill  up  my  glass." 

Saint-Genest  hastened  to  obey  the  request  of  the  Chan- 
cellor of  Dombes  ;  but  in  replacing  the  bottle,  either  by  ac- 
cident or  by  design  he  upset  a  lamp,  and  put  out  the  light. 
The  duchess,  who  with  watchful  eyes  observed  every- 
thing that  happened,  rallied  him  on  his  awkwardness. 

Doubtless  that  was  precisely  what  the  good  abbe  de- 
sired ;  for  turning  at  once  toward  Madame  du  Maine, 
''Beautiful  fairy,"  he  said,  "you  do  wrong  to  laugh  at 
my  awkwardness.  What  you  take  for  stupidity  is  simply 
an  act  of  homage  to  your  beautiful  eyes." 

"  And  how  is  that,  my  dear  Abbe  1  Homage  paid  to 
my  eyes,  do  you  say  1 n 

"Yes,  noble  fairy,"  continued  Saint-Genest;  "I  have 
said  it,  and  I  will  prove  it. 

"My  muse,  severe  and  impolite, 
Maintains  that  so  much  light  at  night 
Is  useless  in  the  skies. 

Since,  when  Aminta  lifts  her  veil, 
And  shows  the  glory  of  her  eyes, 

All  other  light  turns  pale." 

This  madrigal,  so  elegantly  turned,  would  doubtless 
have  been  rewarded  by  the  applause  which  it  deserved, 


THE  POETS  OF  THE  REGENCY.  273 

if  at  the  very  moment  when  Saint-Gen  est  was  uttering 
the  last  line,  Madame  du  Maine,  in  spite  of  all  her  efforts 
to  control  herself,  had  not  sneezed  outrageously,  —  with 
so  much  noise  that  to  Saint-Genest's  great  disappoint- 
ment the  conclusion  of  his  stanza  was  lost  to  the  greater 
portion  of  the  listeners.  But  in  that  company  of  wit- 
hunters  nothing  could  be  lost.  What  was  an  annoyance 
to  one  was  a  help  to  another ;  and  hardly  had  the  duchess 
allowed  that  untimely  sneeze  to  escape,  when  Malezieux, 
catching  it  on  the  wing,  cried  out,  — 

"  Oh,  now  I  am  astounded 
At  the  noise  that  just  resounded 
From  the  beautiful  goddess  ! 
Great  indeed  is  the  princess, 
But  small  the  nose  that  sounded, 
And  so  I  am  astounded  ! " 

This  last  impromptu  was  of  so  superior  excellence  that 
it  imposed  a  moment's  silence  on  the  company  before 
they  could  descend  from  the  heights  of  poesy  to  the  com- 
monplaces of  plain  prose. 

Meanwhile  D'Harmental,  availing  himself  of  the  free- 
dom accorded  by  his  blank  lottery-ticket,  had  remained 
silent,  or  rather  had  exchanged  with  Valef,  who  sat  next 
to  him,  a  few  words,  and  a  few  smiles  half  suppressed. 
As  for  the  rest,  as  Madame  du  Maine  had  foreseen,  not- 
withstanding the  very  natural  preoccupation  of  some  of 
the  guests,  the  party  as  a  whole  had  kept  up  such  an 
appearance  of  frivolity  that  no  one  could  have  suspected 
that  this  appearance  hid  the  secret  windings  of  a  con- 
spiracy. And  therefore,  either  by  force  of  voluntary 
effort,  or  through  satisfaction  in  seeing  her  ambitious 
projects  progressing  so  favorably,  the  beautiful  fairy  Lu~ 
dovise  had  presided  at  the  banquet  with  wonderful  pres- 
ence of  mind,  grace,  and  gayety.     And  as  we  have  seen, 

18 


274  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

Malezieux,  Saint-Aulaire,  Chaulieu,  and  Saint-Genest  had 
seconded  her  to  the  best  of  their  ability. 

Meanwhile  the  time  for  leaving  the  table  was  approach- 
ing. They  could  hear,  through  the  closed  windows  and 
the  partly  open  doors,  vague  snatches  of  music  which 
came  in  from  the  garden,  intimating  that  a  new  order 
of  entertainments  awaited  the  guests.  Madame  du  Maine 
announced  that  having  expressed  to  Fontenelle,  on  the 
evening  before,  her  intention  to  observe  the  rising  of  the 
planet  Venus,  she  had  received  during  the  day  an  excel- 
lent telescope  from  the  author  of  "  Les  Mondes,"  the  use 
of  which  she  offered  to  the  company  for  making  their 
astronomic  studies  of  that  beautiful  star. 

This  announcement  gave  Malezieux  so  fine  an  oppor- 
tunity to  launch  a  madrigal  that  he  could  not  fail  to  take 
advantage  of  it.  Since  Madame  du  Maine  seemed  to 
apprehend  that  Venus  might  have  risen  already,  "Oh, 
beautiful  fairy,"  said  he,  "  you  know  better  than  any  one 
else  that  on  that  score  we  have  nothing  to  fear. 

"For  making  observations 

All  things  are  in  array  ; 
When  we  leave  the  hall  of  feasting 

We  shall  see  Cytherea. 
Yes,  end  that  long  repast, 

Princess  incomparable  ; 
Venus  will  rise  at  last, 

When  you  shall  leave  the  table.*' 

Thus  Malezieux  ended  the  seance,  as  he  had  opened  it. 
All  were  rising  from  the  table  in  the  midst  of  the  ap- 
plause, when  Lagrange-Chancel,  who  had  not  said  a  word 
in  the  whole  course  of  the  repast,  turned  toward  the 
duchess. 

"  Pardon,  Madame,"  he  said,  "  I  also  have  a  debt  to 
pay;  and  although  no  one  seems  to  demand  that  it  be 


THE  POETS  OF  THE  REGENCY.  275 

paid,  I  am  too  conscientious  a  debtor  not  to  discharge 
it." 

"Oh,  true,  my  Archilochus,"  replied  the  duchess; 
"  have  you  not  a  sonnet  for  us  1 " 

"  By  no  means,  Madame,"  replied  Lagrange-Chancel. 
"  Fate  has  reserved  for  me  an  ode  ;  and  fate  is  very  wise, 
for  I  know  myself  that  I  have  but  little  aptitude  for  all 
this  poetry  of  the  drawing-room  which  is  so  much  in 
vogue  at  the  present  day.  My  muse,  you  know,  Madame, 
is  Nemesis,  and  my  inspiration,  instead  of  descending  from 
heaven,  rises  up  from  hell.  Be  so  kind,  therefore,  Madame 
la  Duchesse,  as  to  ask  these  ladies  and  gentlemen  to  bestow 
upon  me  for  a  moment  that  attention  which  since  the 
beginning"of  the  repast  they  have  given  to  others." 

Madame  du  Maine  answered  only  by  resuming  her  seat, 
and  the  others  immediately  followed  her  example.  Then 
there  was  a  moment's  silence,  during  which  the  eyes  of  all 
the  guests  were  fixed  with  some  anxiety  upon  this  man 
who  himself  avowed  his  muse  to  be  a  Fury,  and  Acheron 
his  Hippocrene. 

Then  Lagrange-Chancel  rose ;  his  eye  glowed  with  a 
threatening  light,  and  a  bitter  smile  curled  his  lip. 
With  a  hollow  voice,  which  harmonized  perfectly  with 
the  words  which  fell  from  his  lips,  he  recited  the  follow- 
ing lines,  which  were  destined  eventually  to  be  read  in 
the  Palais  Eoyal,  and  to  draw  from  the  regent  tears  of 
indignation,  witnessed  by  Saint-Simon :  — 

"You,1  whose  eloquent  speech 

Against  two  tyrants  inhuman 
Once  bravely  dared  to  teach 

"War  to  the  Greek  and  the  Roman, 
Give  me  your  power,  that  I  may  pierce 
The  armor  of  a  beast  more  fierce. 

1  Demosthenes  and  Cicero. 


276  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

I  burn  to  go  where  you  lead, 
And  will  even  make  the  attempt, 
From  all  chilling  fears  exempt, 

Charmed  by  your  glorious  deed. 

"He  had  hardly  opened  his  eyes 

"When  —  such  as  to-day  he  is  shown  — 
He  filled  the  air  with  his  cries, 

Because  he  was  kept  from  the  throne. 
To  those  detestable  ideas, 
Sprung  from  the  Circes  and  Medeas,1 

His  mind  alone  aspires, 
Thinking  by  that  infernal  art 
To  bridge  the  chasm  that  apart 

Keeps  him  from  his  desires. 

"  Ferryman  beneath  the  earth, 

Prepare  thyself,  without  dismay, 
To  pass  the  shades  of  royal  birth 

Philippe  begins  to  send  thy  way. 
Oh,  horrors,  horrors  still  pursuing  ! 
Oh,  losses  ever  fresh  accruing  ! 

Mourned  by  tears  that  could  not  save. 
So  on  a  wide-flowing  river, 
Whose  rapid  course  goes  on  forever, 

Wave  is  followed  still  by  wave. 

"Thus  the  sons,2  their  father  weeping,8 

By  the  same  hand  are  robbed  of  life  ; 

The  brothers  side  by  side  are  sleeping  ; 

The  husband  follows  then  the  wife.4 

Then  —  fatal  blow,  that  brings  the  end  !  — 

Two  sons,5  on  whom  our  hopes  depend, 

1  As  may  be  remembered,  the  Due  d'Orl^ans  was  an  excellent  chem- 
ist. It  was  principally  upon  his  studies  with  Humbert  in  that  science 
that  were  based  the  calumnies  to  which  the  life  of  Louis  XV.  has  done 
justice. 

2  The  Due  de  Bourgogne  and  the  Due  de  Berri. 
8  The  elder  dauphin. 

4  Monsieur  le  Dauphin,  and  Madame  la  Dauphine. 
6  The  sons  of  the  young  dauphin. 


THE  POETS  OF  THE  REGENCY.  277 

The  sweeping  scythe  of  Fate  pursues. 
The  first  of  these  has  joined  his  race  ; 
The  other,1  with  a  pallid  face, 

Awaits  the  call  none  can  refuse. 

"  0  King,2  attended  while  alive 

With  incense  and  prosperity, 
Thou  wilt  not  see  thyself  revive 

In  thy  three-branched  posterity. 
Thou  know'st  the  author  of  this  deed, 
And  the  vile  minister  to  his  greed,3 

"Worthy  a  prince  detested. 
May  both  be  buried  in  one  grave  ! 
Destroy  their  lives,  and  thou  wilt  save 

The  remnant  of  thy  race  molested. 

"  Pursue  this  coward  4  prince  to  death, 

Already  by  his  fears  undone  ; 
Let  hatred  curse  his  dying  breath, 

"Who  bears  the  scorn  of  every  one. 
Upon  his  head,  weighed  down  by  crimes, 
Fall  Mithridates'  lot  betimes 

When  pressed  by  Roman  bands. 
And  in  his  last  supreme  despair 
May  he  the  fateful  poison  dare, 

Prepared  by  his  own  hands  !  " 

It  is  impossible  to  describe  the  effect  produced  by  these 
lines,  following  as  they  did  the  impromptus  of  Malezieux, 
the  madrigals  of  Saint-Aulaire,  the  songs  of  Chaulieu. 
All  looked  at  one  another  in  silence,  and  as  if  fright- 
ened at  finding  themselves  for  the  first  time  face  to  face 
with  those  hideous  calumnies  which  until  then  had  lurked 
in  obscurity,  and  had  not  ventured  out  into  open  day- 
light.    The  duchess  herself,  who  had  yielded  the  most 

i  Louis  XV. 

2  Louis  XIV. 

3  Humbert  the  chemist. 

4  It  will  not  be  forgotten  that  the  allusion  here  is  to  the  hero  of 
Steenkirk,  of  Nerwinden,  and  Le>ida. 


278  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

credence  to  them,  had  turned  pale  on  seeing  that  ode, 
that  monstrous  hydra,  erect  in  her  presence,  its  six  heads 
filled  with  gall  and  venom.  The  Prince  de  Cellamare 
showed  his  embarrassment,  and  the  Cardinal  de  Polignac's 
hand  trembled  visibly  as  he  rumpled  his  lace  band. 

Thus  the  poet  ended  his  last  strophe  in  the  midst  of 
the  same  silence  which  had  greeted  the  first.  As  Madame 
du  Maine  arose,  embarrassed  by  the  general  reserve, 
which  indicated  disapprobation  even  among  the  most 
faithful,  the  others  followed  her  example  and  went  out' 
with  her  into  the  gardens. 

Upon  the  steps,  D'Harmental,  who  went  out  last,  acci- 
dentally jostled  against  Lagrange-Chancel,  who  was  re- 
turning to  the  salon  for  a  handkerchief  which  Madame 
du  Maine  had  left  behind  her. 

"  Pardon,  Monsieur  le  Chevalier,"  said  the  irritated 
poet,  straightening  himself  up,  and  fixing  on  D'Harmen- 
tal his  two  small  eyes,  yellow  with  bile,  "  would  you 
trample  upon  me,   perchance  1 " 

"  Yes,  Monsieur,"  replied  D'Harmental,  looking  upon 
him  with  contempt  from  all  his  height,  as  he  would  have 
looked  upon  a  toad  or  a  viper,  —  "  yes,  if  I  were  sure  of 
crushing  you."  And  taking  Valef's  arm,  he  went  down 
with  him  into  the  gardens. 


THE  QUEEN  OF  THE  GREENLANDERS.     279 


CHAPTEE    XXV. 

THE   QUEEN    OF   THE   GREENLANDERS. 

As  might  have  been  anticipated  from  what  was  said  dur- 
ing the  banquet,  and  also  from  the  kind  of  entertain- 
ments which  Madame  du  Maine  was  wont  to  give  at  her 
country-house  in  Sceaux,  the  festivities  to  which  we  have 
introduced  our  readers  were  extended  beyond  the  salons 
into  the  gardens,  where  new  surprises  awaited  the 
guests.- 

These  immense  gardens,  designed  by  Le  Notre  for  Col- 
bert, and  sold  by  him  to  the  Due  du  Maine,  had  be- 
come, under  the  duchess's  management,  a  veritable  abode 
of  fairies.  Those  large  rectangular  divisions  characteristic 
of  French  gardens,  with  their  green  hedges,  their  broad 
avenues  of  lindens,  their  yews  trimmed  to  shapes  of 
spirals  and  pyramids,  offered  better  facilities  than  the 
English  gardens,  with  their  little  clumps  of  shrubbery, 
their  winding  avenues,  and  limited  views,  for  the  mytho- 
logical fetes  which  were  in  vogue  under  the  great  king. 
Those  of  Sceaux  especially,  bounded  only  by  a  large  sheet 
of  water,  in  the  middle  of  which  arose  the  pavilion  of 
Aurora,  —  so  called  because  from  this  pavilion  was  gen- 
erally given  the  signal  that  night  was  ended  and  that  it 
was  time  to  retire,  —  had,  with  their  tennis-courts  and 
arenas  for  tournaments  and  games,  an  aspect  of  grandeur 
truly  royal. 

Every  one  was  astonished,  on  going  out  upon  the  steps, 
to  see  all  those  fine  trees  and  graceful  hedges  linked  to- 


280  LE  CHEVALIER   D'HAR  MENTAL. 

gether  by  garlands  of  light,  which  changed  the  night  into 
brilliant  day.  At  the  same  time  delicious  music  was  heard 
issuing  from  an  invisible  source  ;  then  to  the  sound  of  this 
music  there  was  seen  approaching  through  the  wide  avenue 
something  so  strange  and  unexpected  that  so  soon  as  the  real 
meaning  of  the  affair  was  understood,  shouts  of  laughter 
burst  from  every  side.  It  was  a  game  of  gigantic  ninepins 
which  advanced  slowly  in  the  middle  of  the  wide  avenue, 
preceded  by  its  nine  and  accompanied  by  its  ball.  When 
they  had  arrived  within  a  short  distance  from  the 
porch,  the  ninepins  arranged  themselves  gracefully  in 
the  usual  order,  and  after  bowing  before  Madame  du 
Maine,  —  while  the  ball  kept  on  rolling  to  her  very  feet, 
—  began  to  sing  a  sad  complaint  to  the  effect  that  until 
this  day  the  game  of  ninepins,  less  fortunate  than  the 
games  of  roundabout,  foot-ball,  and  tennis,  had  been  ex- 
iled from  the  gardens  of  Sceaux,  and  to  ask  for  a  reform 
of  this  injustice  and  that  this  game  should  enjoy,  in  com- 
mon with  its  fellow  games,  the  privilege  of  amusing  the 
noble  guests  of  the  beautiful  fairy  Ludovise.  This  lament 
was  a  cantata  for  nine  voices,  accompanied  by  viols  and 
flutes,  interspersed  with  bass  solos  sung  by  the  ball  with 
a  most  original  effect.  The  demand  it  expressed  was 
seconded  by  all  the  guests,  and  granted  by  Madame  du 
Maine.  Immediately,  at  a  given  signal,  and  as  an  expres- 
sion of  joy,  the  ninepins  began  a  ballet,  accompanied  by 
so  singular  tossings  of  the  head  and  so  grotesque  motions 
of  the  body  that  the  success  of  the  dancers  surpassed  even 
that  of  the  singers,  and  Madame  du  Maine,  in  the  pleas- 
ure she  derived  from  the  performance,  expressed  to  the 
game  of  ninepins  her  regret  at  having  neglected  it  so  long, 
and  her  great  pleasure  in  making  its  acquaintance,  au- 
thorizing it  from  this  time  forth,  in  virtue  of  her  power 
as  queen  of  the  Bees,  to  call  itself  the  noble  game  of  nine- 


THE  QUEEN  OF  THE  GREENLANDERS.     281 

pins,  that  it  might  be  no  longer  in  any  way  inferior  to  its 
rival,  —  the  noble  game  of  goose. 

As  soon  as  this  favor  was  granted,  the  pins  gave  place 
to  new  personages,  who  had  just  approached  through  the 
broad  avenue.  These  personages,  seven  in  number,  were 
entirely  covered  with  furs,  which  concealed  their  forms, 
and  shaggy  caps,  which  hid  their  faces ;  they  walked 
slowly,  having  in  their  midst  a  sled  drawn  by  two  rein- 
deer, which  indicated  that  they  were  a  deputation  from 
the  polar  regions.  In  fact,  it  was  an  embassy  which  the 
people  of  Greenland  had  sent  to  the  fairy  Ludovise.  This 
embassy  was  led  by  a  chief  wearing  a  long  cloak  lined 
with  sable,  and  a  fox-skin  cap  from  which  three  tails  were 
hanging,  —  one  over  each  shoulder,  and  the  third  down 
the  back.  Approaching  Madame  du  Maine,  the  chief 
bowed,   and  speaking  for  the   deputation,  — 

"Madame,"  said  he,  "the  Greenlanders  having  delib- 
erated, in  a  general  national  assembly,  upon  sending  one 
of  their  chief  men  to  your  Most  Serene  Highness,  I  have 
had  the  honor  to  be  chosen  to  place  myself  at  their  head  and 
to  offer  you,  in  their  name,  the  sovereignty  of  their  States." 

The  allusion  was  so  evident,  and  yet  so  safe,  that  a 
murmur  of  approbation  ran  through  the  whole  assembly, 
and  a  gracious  smile  touched  the  lips  of  the  beautiful 
fairy  Ludovise.  The  ambassador,  visibly  encouraged  by 
this  reception,   continued, — 

"  Fame  has  told  us,  even  in  the  midst  of  our  snows,  in 
our  poor  little  corner  of  the  world,  of  the  charms,  the  vir- 
tues, and  the  inclinations  of  your  Most  Serene  Highness. 
We  know  that  you  abhor  the  sun." 

This  allusion  was  as  quickly  seized  on  as  the  first,  for 
the  sun  was  the  regent's  device  j  and  as  we  have  said, 
Madame  du  Maine  was  well  known  for  her  predilection 
in   favor  of  night. 


282  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

"Consequently,  Madame,"  continued  the  ambassador, 
"  as  in  our  geographical  position  God  has  blessed  us  with 
six  months  of  night  and  six  months  of  twilight,  we  come 
to  propose  to  you  to  take  refuge  in  our  land  from  the  sun 
which  you  so  much  dislike ;  and  in  recompense  for  that 
which  you  leave  here,  we  offer  you  the  title  of  Queen  of 
the  Greenlanders.  We  are  certain  that  your  presence  will 
cause  our  arid  plains  to  flower,  and  that  the  wisdom  of 
your  laws  will  conquer  our  stubborn  spirit,  and  that, 
thanks  to  the  gentleness  of  your  reign,  we  shall  renounce ' 
a  liberty  less  sweet  than  your  rule." 

"But,"  said  Madame  du  Maine,  "it  seems  to  me  that 
the  kingdom  you  offer  me  is  rather  distant ;  and  I  confess 
I  do  not  like  long  voyages." 

"We  have  anticipated  your  reply,  Madame,"  replied 
the  ambassador ;  "  and  thanks  to  the  enchantments  of 
a  powerful  magician,  fearing  that,  more  immovable  than 
Mahomet,  you  might  not  wish  to  go  to  the  mountain,  we 
have  arranged  that  the  mountain  should  come  to  you. 
Holloa,  genii  of  the  Pole  !  "  continued  the  chief,  describing 
some  cabalistic  circles  in  the  air  with  his  wand,  "  disclose 
to  all  eyes  the  palace  of  your  new  sovereign." 

At  this  moment  fantastic  music  was  heard;  the  veil 
which  covered  the  pavilion  of  Aurora  was  raised  as  if  by 
magic,  and  the  water  showed  the  reflection  of  a  light 
so  skilfully  shed  abroad  that  it  might  have  been  taken 
for  that  of  the  moon.  By  this  light  was  seen,  on  an 
island  of  ice  and  at  the  foot  of  a  snowy  peak,  the  palace 
of  the  Queen  of  the  Greenlanders,  to  which  led  a  bridge 
so  light  that  it  seemed  to  be  made  of  a  floating  cloud. 
Then,  in  the  midst  of  general  acclamation,  the  ambassador 
took  from  the  hands  of  one  of  his  suite  a  crown,  which  he 
placed  on  the  duchess's  head,  and  which  she  received  with 
as  haughty  a  gesture  as  though  it  had  been  a  real  crown. 


THE  QUEEN  OF  THE  GREENLANDERS.     283 

Then,  getting  into  the  sledge,  she  went  toward  the  marine 
palace ;  and  while  the  guards  prevented  the  crowd  from 
following  her  into  her  new  domain,  she  crossed  the  bridge 
and  entered  with  the  seven  ambassadors.  At  the  same 
instant  the  bridge  disappeared,  —  as  if,  by  an  allusion  not 
less  transparent  than  those  which  had  preceded,  the  skil- 
ful machinist  had  wished  to  separate  the  past  from  the 
future,  —  and  fireworks  expressed  the  joy  of  the  Green- 
landers  at  seeing  their  new  sovereign. 

Meanwhile  Madame  du  Maine  was  introduced  by  an 
usher  into  the  most  retired  part  of  the  palace;  and  the 
seven  ambassadors  having  thrown  off  caps  and  cloaks,  she 
found  herself  surrounded  by  the  Prince  de  Cellamare,  Car- 
dinal Polignac,  the  Marquis  de  Pompadour,  the  Comte  de 
Laval,  the  Baron  de  Valef,  the  Chevalier  d'Harmental,  and 
Malezieux.  As  to  the  usher,  who,  after  having  carefully 
closed  all  the  doors,  came  and  mixed  familiarly  with  all 
this  noble  assembly,  he  was  no  other  than  our  old  friend 
the  Abbe  Brigaud.  Everything  now  began  to  appear  in 
its  real  significance ;  and  the  fete,  as  the  ambassadors  had 
done,  threw  off  mask  and  domino,  and  turned  openly  to 
conspiracy.  \ 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  the  duchess,  with  her  habitual 
vivacity,  "  we  have  not  an  instant  to  lose,  as  too  long  an 
absence  would  be  suspicious.  Let  every  one  tell  quickly 
what  he  has  done,  and  we  shall  know  then  where  we  are." 

"Pardon,  Madame,"  said  the  prince;  "but  you  have 
spoken  to  me,  as  of  our  party,  of  a  man  whom  I  do  not 
see  here,  and  whom  I  am  distressed  not  to  recognize 
among  us." 

"  You  mean  the  Due  de  Richelieu  1 "  replied  Madame 
du  Maine.  u  It  is  true  he  promised  to  come ;  he  must 
have  been  detained  by  some  adventure.  We  shall  have  to 
do  without  him." 


284 

"Yes,  certainly,"  replied  the  prince,  "if  he  does  not 
come,  we  must  do  without  him ;  but  I  confess  that  I  deeply 
regret  his  absence.  The  regiment  which  he  commands  is 
at  Bayonne,  and  for  that  reason  might  be  very  useful  to 
us.  Give  orders,  I  beg,  Madame,  that  if  he  comes  he  is 
to  be  admitted  directly." 

"  Abbe,"  said  Madame  du  Maine,  turning  to  Brigaud, 
"  you  heard  ;  tell  D'Avranches." 

The  abbe  went  out  to  execute  this  order. 

"Pardon,  Monsieur,"  said  D'Harmental  to  Malezieux;' 
"but  I  thought  six  weeks  ago  that  the  Due  de  Richelieu 
positively  refused  to  be  one  of  us." 

"  Yes,"  answered  Malezieux,  "  because  he  knew  that  he 
was  intended  to  take  the  blue  ribbon  to  the  Prince  of  the 
Asturias,  and  he  would  not  quarrel  with  the  regent  just 
when  he  expected  the  Golden  Fleece  as  the  reward  of  that 
embassy.  But  since  then  the  regent  has  changed  his 
mind,  and  on  account  of  the  threatened  difficulties  with 
Spain  has  concluded  to  defer  sending  the  order ;  so  that 
the  Due  de  Richelieu,  seeing  his  Golden  Fleece  put  off  till 
the  Greek  kalends,  has  come  back  to  us." 

"Your  Highness's  order  has  been  transmitted  to  him 
whom  it  concerned,"  said  the  Abbe  Brigaud,  returning, 
"  and  if  Monsieur  le  Due  de  Richelieu  appears  at  Sceaux, 
he  will  be  conducted  hither  immediately." 

"  Well,"  said  the  duchess,  "  now  let  us  go  to  business. 
Come,  Laval,  begin." 

"  I,  Madame,"  said  Laval,  "  as  you  know,  have  been  in 
Switzerland,  where,  with  the  King  of  Spain's  name  and 
money,  I  raised  a  regiment  in  the  Grisons.  This  regi- 
ment is  ready  to  enter  France  at  any  moment,  armed  and 
equipped,  and  waits  only  the  order  to  march." 

"Very  good,  my  dear  Count,"  said  the  duchess;  "and 
if  you  do  not  think  it  below  a  Montmorency  to  be  colonel 


THE  QUEEN  OF  THE  GREENLANDERS.     285 

of  a  regiment  while  waiting  for  something  better,  take  the 
command  of  this  one.  It  is  a  surer  way  of  getting  the 
Golden  Fleece  than  taking  the  Saint  Esprit  into  Spain." 

"  Madame,"  said  Laval,  "  it  is  for  you  to  appoint  each 
one  to  the  place  you  have  reserved  for  him,  and  whatever 
you  may  appoint  will  be  gratefully  accepted  by  the  most 
humble  of  your  servants." 

"  And  you,  Pompadour,"  said  Madame  du  Maine, 
thanking  Laval  by  a  gesture  of  the  hand,  "  what  have 
you  done  1 " 

"  According  to  your  Highness's  instructions,"  replied 
the  marquis,  "  I  went  to  Normandy,  where  I  procured 
the  signing  of  the  protest  by  the  nobility.  I  bring  you 
thirty-eight  good  signatures "  (he  drew  a  paper  from 
his  pocket).  "  Here  is  the  request  to  the  king,  and  here 
are  the  signatures." 

The  duchess  snatched  the  paper  so  quickly  that  she 
almost  tore  it ;  and  throwing  her  eyes  rapidly  over  it, 
"Yes,  yes,"  said  she,  "you  have  done  well  to  put  them 
so,  without  distinction  or  difference  of  rank,  so  that  there 
may  be  no  question  of  precedence.  Guillaume-Alexandre 
de  Vieux-Pont,  Pierre-Anne-Marie  de  la  Pailleterie,  De 
Beaufremont,  De  Latour-Dupin,  De  Chatillon.  Yes,  you 
are  right ;  these  are  the  best  and  most  faithful  names  in 
France.  Thanks,  Pompadour  ;  you  are  a  worthy  messen- 
ger. Your  skill  shall  not  be  forgotten.  And  you,  Cheva- 
lier 1"  she  continued,  turning  to  D'Harmental  with  her 
irresistible  smile. 

"I,  Madame,"  said  the  chevalier,  "according  to  the 
orders  of  your  Highness,  left  for  Bretagne,  and  at  Nantes 
I  opened  my  despatches  and  became  acquainted  with  my 
instructions." 

"  Well?"  asked  the  duchess,  quickly. 

"Well,  Madame,"  replied  D'Harmental,  "  I  have  been 


286  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

as  successful  as  Messieurs  de  Laval  and  de  Pompadour. 
I  have  the  promises  of  Messieurs  de  Mont-Louis,  de 
Bonamour,  de  Pont-Callet,  and  de  Rohan-Soldue.  As 
soon  as  Spain  shows  a  squadron  in  sight  of  the  coasts, 
all  Bretagne  will  rise." 

"  You  see,  Prince !  "  cried  the  duchess,  addressing 
Cellamare  with  an  accent  full  of  ambitious  joy,  "  every- 
thing favors  us." 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  prince ;  "  but  these  four  gentlemen, 
influential  as  they  are,  are  not  all  that  we  must  have. 
There  are  Laguerche-Saint-Amant,  the  Bois-Davys,  De  la 
Rochefoucault-Gondral,  the  Decourts,  and  the  D'Erees, 
whom  it  would  be  important  to  gain." 

"  It  is  done,  Prince,"  said  D'Harmental ;  "  here  are 
their  letters,"  and  taking  several  from  his  pocket,  he 
opened  three  of  them  at  random,  and  read  aloud  decla- 
rations of  allegiance  and  promises  of  support  signed  by 
Marquis  Decourt,  La  Rochefoucault-Gondral,  and  Comte 
d'Eree. 

"  Well,  Prince,"  cried  Madame  du  Maine,  "  what  do 
you  think  now  1  Besides  these  three  letters,  here  is  one 
from  Lavauguyon,  one  from  Bois-Davy,  one  from  Fumee. 
Stay,  Chevalier,  here  is  our  right  hand,  —  it  is  that  which 
holds  the  pen ;  let  it  be  a  pledge  to  you  that  from  the  day 
on  which  its  signature  will  be  a  royal  signature  it  will 
have  nothing  to  refuse  to  you." 

"  Thanks,  Madame,"  said  D'Harmental,  kissing  her 
hand  respectfully ;  "  but  you  have  already  given  me  more 
than  I  deserve,  and  success  itself  will  recompense  me  so 
highly,  by  placing  your  Highness  in  your  proper  position, 
that  from  that  day  I  shall  have  nothing  left  to  desire." 

"  And  now,  Valef,  it  is  your  turn,"  continued  the 
duchess ;  "  we  kept  you  till  the  last,  for  you  were  the 
most   important.      If  I   understood   rightly   your   signs 


THE  QUEEN  OF  THE  GREENLANDERS.     287 

during  dinner,  you  are  not  displeased  with  their  Catholic 
Majesties." 

"  What  would  your  Highness  say  to  a  letter  written  by 
his  Majesty  Philip  himself?" 

"  Oh,  it  is  more  than  I  ever  dared  to  hope  for,"  cried 
Madame  du  Maine. 

"  Prince,"  said  Valef,  passing  a  paper  to  Cellamare, 
"you  know  his  Majesty's  writing.  Assure  her  Royal 
Highness,  who  does  not  dare  to  believe  it,  that  this  letter 
is  written  entirely  by  his  own  hand." 

"Entirely,"  said  Cellamare,  bowing ;  "entirely,  —  it  is 
the  truth." 

"And  to  whom  is  it  addressed  ?"  asked  Madame  du 
Maine,  taking  it  from  the  prince's  hands. 

"  To  King  Louis  XV.,  Madame,"  said  Valef. 

"  Good  ! "  said  the  duchess  ;  "  we  will  have  it  presented 
to  his  Majesty  by  the  Marechal  de  Villeroy.  Let  us  see 
what  he  says."  And  she  read  as  rapidly  as  the  obscurity 
of  the  writing  permitted  : 1  — 

The  Escurial,  March  16,  1718. 

Since  Providence  has  placed  me  on  the  throne  of  Spain, 
I  have  never  for  an  instant  lost  sight  of  the  obligations  of 
my  birth.  Louis  XIV.,  of  eternal  memory,  is  always  present 
to  my  mind.  I  seem  always  to  hear  that  great  prince,  at  the 
moment  of  our  separation,  saying  to  me,  "  The  Pyrenees  exist 
no  longer."  Your  Majesty  is  the  only  descendant  of  my  elder 
brother,  whose  loss  I  feel  daily.  God  has  called  you  to  the 
succession  of  that  great  monarchy,  whose  glory  and  interests 
will  be  precious  to  me  till  my  death.  I  can  never  forget 
what  I  owe  to  your  Majesty,  to  my  country,  and  to  the 
memory  of  my  ancestors. 

My  dear  Spaniards,  who  love  me  tenderly,  and  who  are 
well  assured  of  my  love  for  them,  are  not  jealous  of  the  senti- 

1  This  letter,  which  may  he  seen  in  the  archives  of  foreign  affairs,  is 
Hctually  in  the  handwriting  of  Philip  V. 


288  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

ments  which  I  hold  for  you,  and  are  well  assured  that  our 
union  is  the  base  of  public  tranquillity.  I  natter  myself  that 
my  personal  interests  are  still  dear  to  a  nation  which  has 
nourished  me  in  its  bosom,  and  that  the  generous  nobility 
which  has  shed  so  much  blood  to  support  them  will  always 
look  with  love  on  a  king  who  feels  it  an  honor  to  be  obliged 
to  them,  and  to  have  been  born  among  them. 

"  This  is  addressed  to  you,  gentlemen,"  said  the  duchess, 
interrupting  herself,  and  looking  round  her;  then  she  con- 
tinued, impatient  to  know  the  rest  of  the  letter :  — 

What,  then,  can  your  faithful  subjects  think  of  a  treaty 
signed  against  me,  or  rather  against  yourself] 

Since  your  exhausted  finances  can  no  longer  support  the 
current  expenses  of  peace,  it  is  desired  that  you  should  unite 
with  my  most  mortal  enemy,  and  should  make  war  on  me  if 
I  do  not  consent  to  give  up  Sicily  to  the  archduke.  I  will 
never  subscribe  to  these  conditions ;  they  are  insupportable 
to  me, 

I  do  not  enter  into  the  fatal  consequences  of  this  alliance. 
I  only  beg  your  Majesty  to  convoke  immediately  the  States- 
General  of  your  kingdom  to  deliberate  on  an  affair  of  so  great 
consequence. 

"  The  States-General ! "  murmured  the  Cardinal  de 
Polignac. 

"Well,  what  does  your  Eminence  say  to  the  States- 
General  1  "  interrupted  Madame  du  Maine,  impatiently. 
"  Has  this  measure  the  misfortune  not  to  meet  with  your 
approbation  % " 

"  I  neither  blame  nor  approve,  Madame,"  replied  the 
cardinal ;  "I  only  remember  that  the  same  convocation 
was  made  during  the  League,  and  that  Philip  II.  came 
off  badly." 

"Men  and  times  are  changed,  Cardinal,"  replied  the 
duchess.     "  We  are  not  in  1594,  but  in  1718.     Philip  II. 


THE  QUEEN  OF  THE  GREENLANDERS.     289 

was  Flemish,  and  Philip  V.  is  French.  The  same  results 
cannot  take  place,  since  the  causes  are  different."  And 
she  went  on  with  the  letter:  — 

I  ask  this  in  the  name  of  the  blood  which  unites  us,  in  the 
name  of  the  great  king  from  whom  we  have  our  origin,  in 
the  name  of  your  people  and  of  mine.  If  ever  there  was 
a  necessity  to  listen  to  the  voice  of  the  French  nation,  it  is 
now.  It  is  indispensable  to  learn  from  the  nation  itself  what 
it  thinks,  —  whether  it  wishes  to  declare  war  on  us.  As  I  am 
ready  to  expose  my  life  to  maintain  its  glory  and  interests,  I 
hope  that  you  will  reply  quickly  to  the  propositions  I  make 
to  you,  that  the  convocation  which  I  propose  to  you  will  pre- 
vent the  unfortunate  results  which  threaten  us,  and  that  the 
forces  of  Spain  will  be  employed  only  to  sustain  the  greatness 
of  France,  and  to  fight  her  enemies,  as  I  shall  never  employ 
them  but  to  show  your  Majesty  the  sincere  regard  and  affec- 
tion which  I  cherish  toward  you. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  that,  gentlemen  ?  Could  his 
Catholic  Majesty  do  more  for  us?"  asked  Madame  du 
Maine. 

"  He  might  have  joined  to  this  letter  an  epistle  ad- 
dressed directly  to  the  States-General,"  answered  the  Car- 
dinal de  Polignac.  "That  epistle,  if  the  king  had  deigned 
to  send  it,  would  have  had  a  great  influence  on  their 
deliberations." 

"  Here  it  is,"  said  the  Prince  de  Cellamare,  taking 
a  paper  from  his  pocket. 

"  What,  Prince  !  "  cried  the  cardinal ;  "  what  do  you 
say?" 

"  I  say  that  his  Catholic  Majesty  is  of  the  same  opinion 
as  your  Eminence,  and  has  sent  me  this  letter,  which  is 
the  complement  of  the  letter  brought  to  us  by  the  Baron 
de  Valef." 

"  Then  nothing  is  wanting  ! "  cried  Madame  du  Maine. 
19 


290  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

"We  want  Bayonne,"  said  the  Prince  de  Cellamare, 
shaking  his  head,  —  "Bayonne,  the  door  of  France." 

At  this  moment  D'Avranches  entered,  announcing  the 
Due  de  Eichelieu. 

"  And  now,  Prince,  there  is  nothing  wanting,"  said  the 
Marquis  de  Pompadour,  laughing ;  "  for  here  is  he  who 
has  the  key  to  the  door." 


THE  DUC  DE  RICHELIEU.  291 


CHAPTER    XXVI. 

THE   DUC    DE   RICHELIEU. 

"  At  last ! "  cried  the  duchess,  seeing  Richelieu  enter. 
"  Are  you,  then,  always  the  same  1  Your  friends  cannot 
count  on  you  any  more  than  your  mistresses." 

"  On  the  contrary,  Madame,"  said  Richelieu,  approach- 
ing the  duchess,  and  kissing  her  hand  with  an  easy 
familiarity  which  indicated  that  in  his  eyes  there  was  no 
difference  of  rank  among  women,  "  for  to-day,  more  than 
ever,  I  prove  to  your  Highness  that  I  can  reconcile 
everything." 

"  Then  you  have  made  a  sacrifice  for  us,  Duke  % "  said 
Madame  du  Maine,  laughing. 

"  Ten  thousand  times  greater  than  you  can  imagine. 
Whom  do  you  think  I  have  left  1 " 

"  Madame  de  Villarsl"  asked  the  duchess. 

"  Oh,  no  !  better  than  that." 

"  Madame  de  Duras  % " 

"  No." 

"  Madame  de  Nesle  %  " 

"Bah!" 

"  Madame  de  Polignac  ?     Ah,  pardon,  Cardinal !  " 

"  Go  on.     It  does  not  concern  his  Eminence." 

"Madame  de  Soubise,  Madame  de  Gabriant,  Madame 
de  Gace*  1 " 

"  No,  no,  no." 

"  Mademoiselle  de  Charolais  1 " 

u  I  have  not  seen  her  since  my  last  trip  to  the  Bastille." 


292  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

"  Madame  de  Berri  1 " 

"  You  know  well  that  since  Riom  has  taken  to  beating 
her  she  is  madly  in  love  with  him." 

"  Mademoiselle  de  Valois  1 " 

"  Oh,  I  intend  her  for  my  wife  when  we  have  suc- 
ceeded, and  I  am  a  Spanish  prince.  No,  Madame ;  I 
have  left  for  your  Highness  the  two  most  charming 
grisettes  —  "  v 

"  Grisettes  !  Ah,  fie  !  "  cried  the  duchess,  with  an  in- 
describable disdain  ;  "I  did  not  think  that  you  descended 
to  such  creatures." 

"  Creatures  !  Two  charming  women,  —  Madame  Miche- 
lin  and  Madame  Renaud.  Do  you  not  know  them  ?  Ma- 
dame Michelin,  a  beautiful  blonde  ;  her  husband  is  a  carpet 
manufacturer;  I  recommend  him  to  you,  Duchess.  Ma- 
dame Eenaud,  an  adorable  brunette,  with  blue  eyes  and 
black  lashes,  and  whose  husband  is  —  I  don't  remember 
just  what  —  " 

"  What  Monsieur  Michelin  is  probably,"  said  Pompa- 
dour, laughing. 

"  Pardon,  Monsieur  le  Due,"  replied  Madame  du  Maine, 
who  had  lost  all  curiosity  concerning  Richelieu's  love  ad- 
ventures as  soon  as  it  appeared  that  they  were  outside  a 
certain  social  circle,  "  may  I  venture  to  remind  you  that 
we  met  here  on  important  business  1  " 

"  Oh,  yes  !  we  are  conspiring,  are  we  not  1 " 

"  Had  you  forgotten  it  1  " 

"  Faith  !  a  conspiracy  is  not  one  of  the  gayest  things  in 
the  world,  therefore  I  forget  whenever  I  can  that  I  am 
conspiring ;  but  that  is  nothing,  —  whenever  it  is  neces- 
sary I  can  come  back  to  it.  Now  let  us  see ;  how  does 
the  conspiracy  go  on  1 " 

"  Here,  Duke,  look  at  these  letters,  and  you  will  know 
as  much  as  we  do." 


THE  DUC  DE  RICHELIEU.  293 

"  Oh,  your  Highness  must  excuse  me,"  said  Richelieu  ; 
"  but  really  I  do  not  read  even  those  which  are  addressed 
to  me,  and  I  have  seven  or  eight  hundred  in  the  most 
charming  styles  of  penmanship,  which  I  am  keeping  to 
amuse  my  old  days.  Here,  Malezieux,  you  who  are  clear- 
ness itself,  give  me  a  report." 

"Well,  these  letters  are  the  engagements  of  the  Bre- 
tagne  nobles  to  sustain  the  rights  of  her  Highness." 

"  Very  good." 

"  This  paper  is  the  protest  of  the  nobility." 

"  Oh,  give  it  to  me  !     I  protest." 

"But  you  do  not  know  against  what." 

"Never  mind;  I  protest  all  the  same."  And  taking 
the  paper,  he  wrote  his  name  after  that  of  Guillaume- 
Antoine  de  Chastellux,  which  was  the  last  signature. 

"  Let  him  alone,  Madame,"  said  Cellamare  to  the 
duchess ;   "  Richelieu's  name  is   useful  everywhere." 

"  And  this  letter  ? "  asked  the  duke,  pointing  to  the 
missive  of  Philip  V. 

"  That  letter,"  continued  Malezieux,  "  is  written  by 
King  Philip  himself." 

"  Then  his  Catholic  Majesty  writes  worse  than  I  do," 
answered  Richelieu.  "  That  pleases  me ;  RafFe  always 
says  it  is  impossible." 

"  If  the  letter  is  badly  written,  the  news  it  contains  is 
none  the  less  good,"  said  Madame  du  Maine,  "for  it  is 
a  letter  begging  the  King  of  France  to  assemble  the  States- 
General  to  oppose  the  treaty  of  the  quadruple  alliance." 

"  And  is  your  Highness  sure  of  the  States-General  ?  " 

"  Here  is  the  protest  which  pledges  the  nobility.  The 
cardinal  answers  for  the  clergy,  and  there  remains  only 
the  army." 

"  The  army,"  said  Laval,  "  is  my  affair.  I  have  the 
signatures  of  twenty-two  colonels." 


294  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

"First,"  said  Richelieu,  "I  answer  for  my  regiment, 
which  is  at  Bayonne,  and  which  consequently  is  able 
to  he  of  great  service  to  us." 

"  Yes,"  said  Cellamare,  "  and  we  reckon  on  it ;  but  I 
heard  that  there  was  a  question  of  changing  the  garrison." 

"  Seriously  1  " 

"Very  seriously.  You  understand,  Duke?  We  must 
be  beforehand." 

"Of  course!  We  must  act  at  once.  Give  me  paper 
and  ink ;  I  will  write  to  the  Due  de  Berwick.  At  the 
moment  of  commencing  a  campaign,  no  one  will  be  aston- 
ished at  my  begging  not  to  be  removed  from  the  theatre 
of  war." 

The  duchess  hastened  to  give  Richelieu  what  he  asked, 
and  taking  a  pen,  presented  it  to  him  herself.  The  duke 
bowed,  took  the  pen,  and  wrote  the  following  letter  :  — 

Monsieur  le  Due  de  Berwick,  Peer  and  Marshal  of 
France,1  —  As  my  regiment,  Monsieur,  is  liable  at  any  time 
to  be  moved,  and  as  new  regimentals  have  just  been  ordered 
for  it,  which  it  must  entirely  lose  if  before  they  are  finished  it 
should  be  obliged  to  make  any  movement,  I  have  the  honor 
to  beg,  Monsieur,  that  you  will  be  pleased  to  allow  it  to  remain 
at  Bayonne  until  the  beginning  of  May,  when  the  regimentals 
will  be  completed.  And  I  beg  you  to  believe  me,  with  all 
possible  consideration,  Monsieur, 

Your  very  humble  and  obedient  servant, 

Due  de  Richelieu. 

"Now  read,  Madame,"  continued  the  duke,  passing  the 
paper  to  Madame  du  Maine.  "  After  that  precaution  the 
regiment  will  not  stir  from  Bayonne." 

The  duchess  took  the  letter,  read  it,  and  passed  it  to 

1  The  Due  de  Berwick  had  been  appointed  lieutenant-general  of  the 
king's  armies,  in  case  war  should  break  out,  and  had  accepted,  although 
Philip  V.  had  named  him  grandee  of  Spain,  duke  and  chevalier  of  the 
Golden  Fleece. 


THE  DUC  DE  RICHELIEU.  295 

her  neighbor,  who  passed  it  on,  so  that  it  made  the  round 
of  the  table.  Malezieux,  who  had  it  last,  could  not  re- 
press a  slight  smile. 

"Ah,  Monsieur  le  Poete,"  said  Richelieu,  "you  are 
laughing ;  I  suppose  I  have  had  the  misfortune  to  offend 
that  ridiculous  prude  called  orthography.  You  know  I 
am  a  gentleman,  and  they  forgot  to  teach  me  French, 
thinking,  I  suppose,  that  for  fifteen  hundred  francs  a  year 
I  could  always  have  a  valet-de-chambre,  who  would  write 
my  letters  and  make  my  verses.  This  will  not  prevent 
me,  my  dear  Malezieux,  from  being  in  the  Academy,  not 
only  before  you,   but  before  Voltaire." 

"  In  which  case,  will  your  valet-de-chambre  write  your 
discourse  1 " 

"  He  is  working  at  it ;  and  you  will  see  that  it  will 
not  be  worse  than  those  that  some  academicians  of  my 
acquaintance  have  written   themselves." 

"Monsieur  le  Due,"  said  Madame  du  Maine,  "it  will 
doubtless  be  a  curious  thing  to  see  your  reception  into  the 
illustrious  body  of  which  you  speak,  and  I  promise  you  to 
employ  myself  from  and  after  to-morrow  in  procuring  a 
seat  for  that  day ;  but  this  evening  we  are  occupied  with 
other  things." 

"  Well,"  said  Richelieu,  "speak  ;  I  listen.  What  have 
you  resolved  ? " 

"  To  obtain  from  the  king,  by  means  of  these  two  let- 
ters, the  convocation  of  the  States-General ;  then,  sui 
we  are  of  the  three  orders,  we  depose  the  regent,  and 
name  Philip  V.  in  his  place." 

"  And  as  Philip  V.  cannot  leave  Madrid,  he  gives  us 
full  powers,  and  we  govern  France  in  his  stead.  Well,  it 
is  not  badly  arranged,  all  that ;  but  to  convoke  the  States- 
General  you  must  have  an  order  from  the  king." 

"  The  king  will  sign  it." 


296  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

"  Without  the  regent's  knowledge  1 " 

"  Without  the  regent's  knowledge." 

"  Then  you  have  promised  the  Bishop  of  Frejus  to  make 
him  a  cardinal." 

"  No  ;  but  I  will  promise  Villeroy  a  title  and  the  Golden 
Fleece." 

"  I  am  afraid,  Madame^"  said  the  Prince  de  Cellamare, 
M  that  all  this  will  not  determine  the  marshal  to  assume  so 
grave  a  responsibility." 

"  It  is  not  the  marshal  we  want ;  it  is  his  wife." 

"  Ah  !  you  remind  me,"  said  Richelieu  ;  "  I  under- 
take it." 

"  You  !  "  said  the  duchess,  with  astonishment. 

"  Yes,  Madame,"  replied  Richelieu,  "  you  have  your 
correspondence  ;  I  have  mine.  I  have  seen  seven  or  eight 
letters  that  your  Highness  has  received  to-day.  Will  your 
Highness  have  the  goodness  to  look  at  one  I  received 
yesterday  1 " 

"  Is  this  letter  for  me  only,  or  may  it  be  read  aloud  % " 

"We  are  among  persons  who  are  discreet,  are  we  not1?" 
said  Richelieu,  looking  round  him. 

"  I  think  so,"  replied  the  duchess  ;  "  besides,  the  gravity 
of  the  situation  —  " 

The  duchess  took  the  letter,  and  read  :  — 

Monsieur  le  Due,  —  I  am  a  woman  of  my  word.  My 
husband  is  on  the  eve  of  setting  out  for  the  little  journey  you 
know  of.  To-morrow,  at  eleven  o'clock,  I  shall  be  at  home 
for  you  only.  Do  not  think  that  I  decide  on  this  step  without 
having  put  all  the  blame  on  the  shoulders  of  Monsieur  de 
Villeroy.  I  begin  to  fear  for  him,  as  you  may  have  under- 
taken to  punish  him.  Come,  then,  at  the  appointed  hour,  to 
prove  to  me  that  I  am  not  too  much  to  blame  in  conspiring 
with  you  against  my  lord  and  master. 

"  Ah  !  pardon  :  that  is  not  the  one  I  intended  to  show 


THE  DUC  DE  RICHELIEU.  297 

you ;  that  is  the  one  of  the  day  before  yesterday.  Here 
is  yesterday's." 

The  Duchesse  du  Maine  took  the  second  letter,  and  read 
as  follows :  — 

My  dear  Armand,  — 

"  Is  this  the  right  one,  or  are  you  mistaken  again  1 " 
said   the  duchess  to  Richelieu. 
"  No,  no  ;  this  time  it  is  right." 
The  duchess  went  on  :  — 

My  dear  Armand,  —  You  are  a  dangerous  advocate  when 
you  plead  against  Monsieur  de  Villeroy.  I  need  to  exaggerate 
your  talents  to  diminish  my  weakness.  You  had,  in  my  heart, 
a  judge  interested  in  your  gaining  your  cause.  Come  to-mor- 
row to  plead  again,  and  I  will  give  you  an  audience. 

"  And  have  you  been  there  1 " 

"  Certainly,  Madame." 

"  And  the  duchess  1 " 

"  Will  do,  I  hope,  all  we  desire ;  and  as  she  makes  her 
husband  do  whatever  she  likes,  we  shall  have  our 
order  for  the  convocation  of  the  States-General  on  his 
return." 

"  And  when  will  he  return  1 " 

"  In  a  week." 

"  And  can  you  be  faithful  all  that  time  1 " 

"  Madame,  when  I  have  undertaken  a  cause,  I  am  capa- 
ble of  the  greatest  sacrifices  to  forward  it." 

"  Then  we  may  count  on  your  word  ]  " 

"  I  pledge  myself." 

"  You  hear,  gentlemen  1 "  said  the  Duchesse  du  Maine. 
"  Let  us  continue  to  work,  each  in  his  own  sphere.  You, 
Laval,  act  on  the  army.  You,  Pompadour,  on  the  nobil- 
ity. You,  Cardinal,  on  the  clergy ;  and  we  will  leave  the 
Due  de  Eichelieu  to  act  on  Madame  de  Villeroy." 


298  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

"  And  for  what  day  is  our  next  meeting  fixed  1 "  asked 
Cellamare. 

"All  depends  on  circumstances,  Prince,"  replied  the 
duchess.  "  At  any  rate,  if  I  have  not  time  to  give  you 
notice,  I  will  send  for  you  by  the  same  carriage  and  the 
same  coachman  who  took  you  to  the  Arsenal  the  first 
time  you  came  there."  Then  turning  toward  Richelieu, 
"You   give  us  the  rest  of  the  evening,   Duke?" 

"  I  ask  your  pardon,"  replied  Richelieu ;  "  but  it  is 
absolutely  impossible.  I  am  expected  in  the  Rue  des 
Bons-Enfans." 

"  What !  have  you  resumed  relations  with  Madame  de 
Sabran?" 

"  They  were  never  broken,  Madame." 

"  Take  care,  Duke ;  that  looks  like  constancy." 

"  No,  Madame  ;  it  is  calculation." 

"  Ah  !  I  see  that  you  are  in  the  way  to  become  devoted." 

"  I  never  do  things  by  halves,  Madame." 

"  Well,  we  will  follow  your  example,  Monsieur  le  Due. 
And  now,  gentlemen,  we  have  been  here  an  hour  and 
a  half,  and  we  should,  I  think,  return  to  the  gardens, 
that  our  absence  may  not  be  too  much  noticed.  Besides, 
I  think  the  Goddess  of  Night  is  on  the  shore,  waiting  to 
thank  us  for  the  preference  we  have  given  her  over  the 
sun,  and  it  would  not  be  polite  to  keep  her  waiting." 

u  With  your  permission,  however,  Madame,"  said  Laval, 
"I  must  detain  you  a  moment  to  submit  to  you  the  em- 
barrassment in  which  I  am  placed." 

"  Speak,  Count,"  replied  the  duchess ;  "  to  what  does 
it  relate?" 

"  It  relates  to  our  requests,  our  protests,  our  memorials. 
It  was  agreed,  if  you  remember,  that  they  should  be 
printed  by  workmen  who  could  not  read." 

"Well]" 


THE  DUC  DE  RICHELIEU.  299 

"  I  bought  a  press,  and  established  it  in  the  cellar  of  a 
house  behind  the  Val-de-Grace.  I  enlisted  the  necessary 
workmen,  and  up  to  the  present  time  have  had  the  most 
satisfactory  results;  but  the  noise  of  our  machine  has 
given  rise  to  the  suspicion  that  we  were  coining  false 
money,  and  yesterday  the  police  made  a  descent  on  the 
house.  Fortunately  there  was  time  to  stop  the  work  and 
roll  a  bed  over  the  trap,  so  that  they  discovered  nothing. 
But  as  the  visit  might  be  renewed,  and  with  a  less  fortu- 
nate result,  as  soon  as  they  were  gone,  I  dismissed  the 
workmen,  buried  the  press,  and  had  all  the  proofs  taken 
to  my  own  house." 

"  And  you  did  well,  Count,"  cried  the  Cardinal  de 
Polignac. 

"  But  what  are  we  to  do  now  1 "  asked  Madame  du  Maine. 

"Have  the  press  taken  to  my  house,"  said  Pompadour. 

"  Or  mine,"  said  Valef. 

"  No,  no,"  said  Malezieux ;  "a  press  is  too  dangerous  a 
means.  One  of  the  police  may  easily  slip  in  among  the 
workmen,  and  all  will  be  lost.  Besides,  there  cannot  be 
much  left  to  print." 

"  The  greater  part  is  done,"  said  Laval. 

"  Well,"  continued  Malezieux,  "  my  advice  is,  as  be- 
fore, to  employ  some  intelligent  copyist,  whose  silence  we 
can  buy." 

"  Yes,  this  will  be  much  safer,"  said  Polignac. 

"  But  where  can  we  find  such  a  man  1 "  said  the  prince. 
"  It  is  not  an  affair  on  which  we  can  employ  the  first 
comer." 

"  If  I  dared  —  "  said  the  Abbe  Brigaud. 

"  Dare,  Abbe,  dare  ! "  said  the  duchess. 

"  I  should  say  that  I  know  the  man  you  want." 

"  Did  I  not  tell  you,"  said  Pompadour,  "  that  the  abbe 
is  a  valuable  man1?" 


300  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

"  But  is  he  really  what  we  want  1 "  said  Polignac. 

"  Oh,  if  your  Eminence  had  him  made  on  purpose  he 
could  not  do  better,"  said  Brigaud.  "A  true  machine, 
who  will  write  everything  and  read  nothing." 

"  But  as  a  still  greater  precaution,"  said  the  prince,  "  we 
might  put  the  most  important  papers  into  Spanish." 

"  Then,  Prince,"  said  Brigaud,  "  I  will  send  him  to 
you." 

"No,  no  !  "  said  Cellamare;  "he  must  not  set  his  foot 
within  the  Spanish  embassy.  It  must  be  done  through 
some  third  party." 

"  Yes,  yes  !  we  will  arrange  all  that,"  said  the  duchess. 
"  The  man  is  found,  —  that  is  the  principal  thing.  You 
answer  for  him,  Brigaud1?" 

"  I  do,  Madame." 

"  That  is  all  we  require.  And  now  there  is  nothing  to 
keep  us  any  longer,"  continued  the  duchess.  "  Monsieur 
d'Harmental,  give  me  your  arm,  I  beg." 

The  chevalier  hastened  to  obey  Madame  du  Maine,  who 
seized  this  opportunity  to  express  her  gratitude  for  the 
courage  he  had  shown  in  the  Rue  des  Bons-Enfans,  and 
his  skill  in  Brittany.  At  the  door  of  the  pavilion,  the 
Greenland  envoys  —  now  dressed  simply  as  guests  — 
found  a  little  galley  waiting  to  take  them  to  the  shore. 
Madame  du  Maine  entered  first,  seating  D'Harmental  by 
her,  leaving  Malezieux  to  do  the  honors  to  Cellamare 
and  Richelieu. 

As  the  duchess  had  said,  the  Goddess  of  Night, 
dressed  in  black  gauze  spangled  with  golden  stars,  was 
waiting  on  the  other  side  of  the  lake,  accompanied  by 
the  twelve  Hours ;  and  as  soon  as  the  duchess  was  near 
enough  to  hear  them,  they  began  to  sing  a  cantata  ap- 
propriate to  the  subject.  The  cantata  opened  with  a 
chorus  of  four  verses,  to  which  succeeded  a  solo,  followed 


THE  DUC  DE  KICHELIEU.  301 

by  a  second  chorus,  and  all  in  so  exquisite  taste  that 
every  one  turned  toward  Malezieux,  the  director  of  the 
entertainment,  to  congratulate  him  on  his  success.  At 
the  first  notes  of  the  solo  D'Harmental  started,  for  the 
voice  of  the  singer  had  so  strong  a  resemblance  to  another 
voice,  well  known  to  him  and  dear  to  his  recollection, 
that  —  however  improbable  was  Bathilde's  presence  at 
Sceaux  —  he  rose  involuntarily  to  look  for  the  person 
whose  accents  had  so  singularly  moved  him.  Unfor- 
tunately, in  spite  of  the  torches  which  the  Hours,  her 
subjects,  held,  he  could  not  distinguish  the  goddess's 
features,  which  were  covered  with  a  long  veil,  similar  to 
her  dress.  He  could  only  hear  that  pure,  flexible,  sono- 
rous voice  rise  and  fall  with  that  free,  well-trained,  and 
facile  utterance  which  he  had  so  much  admired  when  he 
heard  it  for  the  first  time  in  the  Rue  du  Temps-Perdu ; 
and  every  tone  of  that  voice,  becoming  more  distinct  as 
he  approached  the  shore,  penetrated  to  the  bottom  of  his 
heart,  and  made  him  tremble  from  head  to  foot.  At 
length  the  solo  ceased,  and  the  chorus  resumed,  but 
D'Harmental,  still  standing,  and  insensible  to  all  other 
thoughts,  continued  to  follow  in  remembrance  the  voice 
that  had  ceased  and  the  notes  that  were  no  longer 
heard. 

"Well,  Monsieur  d'Harmental,"  said  the  duchess,  "are 
you  so  accessible  to  the  charms  of  music  that  you  forget 
that  you  are  my  cavalier1?" 

"  Oh,  pardon,  Madame  ! "  said  D'Harmental,  leaping  to 
the  shore,  and  holding  out  his  hand  to  the  duchess ;  "  but 
I  thought  I  recognized  that  voice,  and  I  confess  it  brought 
to  me  memories  so  powerful  —  " 

"  That  proves  that  you  are  an  habitue  of  the  opera,  my 
dear  Chevalier,  and  that  you  appreciate,  as  it  deserves, 
Mademoiselle  Bury's  talent." 


302  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

"  What !  is  that  voice  Mademoiselle  Bury's  1 "  asked 
D'Harmental,    with   astonishment. 

"It  is,  Monsieur;  and  if  you  do  not  believe  me," 
replied  the  duchess,  in  a  tone  which  betrayed  a  degree 
of  displeasure,  "permit  me  to  take  Laval's  arm  or  Pom- 
padour's, that  you  may  go  and  assure  yourself  of  it." 

"  Oh,  Madame,"  said  D'Harmental,  respectfully  retaining 
the  hand  she  was  about  to  withdraw,  "pray  excuse  me. 
We  are  in  the  gardens  of  Armida,  and  a  moment  of  error 
may  be  permitted  among  so  many  enchantments;"  and 
presenting  his  arm  again  to  the  duchess,  he  conducted 
her   toward   the   chateau. 

At  this  instant  a  feeble  cry  was  heard,  and  feeble  as 
it  was,  it  reached  D'Harmental's  heart,  and  he  turned 
involuntarily. 

"  What  is  it  1 "  asked  the  duchess,  with  an  uneasiness 
mixed  with  impatience. 

"  Nothing,  nothing,"  said  Richelieu  ;  "it  is  little  Bury, 
who  has  the  vapors.  Make  yourself  easy,  Madame.  I 
know  the  disease ;  it  is  not  dangerous.  If  you  particu- 
larly wish  it,  I  will  even  go  to-morrow  to  learn  how 
she  is." 

Two  hours  after  this  little  accident  —  which  was  not 
sufficient  to  disturb  the  fete  in  any  way  —  D'Harmental 
was  brought  back  to  Paris  by  the  Abbe  Brigaud,  and  re- 
entered his  little  attic  in  the  Rue  du  Temps-Perdu,  from 
which  he  had  been  absent  six  weeks. 


JEALOUSY.  303 


v     CHAPTEK  XXYII. 

JEALOUSY. 

The  first  sensation  D'Harmental  experienced  on  returning 
was  one  of  inexpressible  satisfaction  at  finding  himself 
again  in  that  little  room  so  filled  with  recollections. 
Though  he  had  been  absent  from  it  six  weeks,  one  might 
have  supposed  that  he  had  left  it  only  the  day  before, 
since,  thanks  to  the  almost  maternal  care  of  Madame 
Denis,  everything  was  in  its  accustomed  place.  D'Har- 
mental remained  an  instant,  his  candle  in  his  hand,  look- 
ing around  him  with  a  look  almost  of  ecstasy.  All  the 
other  impressions  of  his  life  were  effaced  by  those  which 
he  had  experienced  in  this  little  corner  of  the  world. 
Then  he  ran  to  the  window,  opened  it,  and  threw  an  in- 
describable look  of  love  toward  the  darkened  windows  of 
his  neighbor.  Doubtless  Bathilde  slept  the  sleep  of  an 
angel,  unaware  that  D'Harmental  was  there  trembling 
with  love  and  hope. 

He  remained  thus  for  more  than  half  an  hour,  breathing 
with  full  respirations  the  air  of  night,  which  had  never 
seemed  to  him  so  pure  and  fresh,  and  gazing  alternately 
at  Bathilde's  window  and  at  the  sky.  Only  then  did.  he 
comprehend  to  what  degree  Bathilde  had  become  a  neces- 
sity of  his  life,  and  how  deep  and  strong  was  his  love 
for  her. 

At  length,  however,  D'Harmental  reflected  that  he 
could  not  spend  the  entire  night  at  his  window,  and 
closing  it,  he  went  back  into  his  room,  —  still  to  trace 


304 

the  recollections  which  his  return  to  that  little  chamber 
had  awakened  in  his  heart.  He  opened  his  piano,  and 
passed  his  fingers  over  the  keys,  at  the  risk  of  again 
arousing  the  anger  of  the  lodger  on  the  third  floor.  From 
the  piano  he  passed  to  the  unfinished  portrait  of  Bathilde. 
There  were  still  the  beautiful  and  pure  young  girl  and 
Mirza's  wild  and  whimsical  head.  At  length,  after  paus- 
ing for  a  last  time  before  every  object,  he  lay  down  and 
addressed  himself  to  sleep,  dwelling  still  in  memory  on 
the  solo  sung  by  Mademoiselle  Bury,  whom  at  last,  in 
that  vague  twilight  of  thought  which  precedes  complete 
extinction,  he  fully  identified  with  Bathilde. 

When  he  awoke,  D'Harmental  jumped  from  his  bed 
and  ran  to  the  window.  The  day  appeared  already 
advanced,  and  the  sun  was  shining  brilliantly ;  yet 
Bathilde's  window  remained  hermetically  closed.  The 
chevalier  looked  at  his  watch ;  it  was  ten  o'clock,  and  he 
began  to  dress.  We  have  already  admitted  that  he  was 
not  free  from  a  certain  almost  feminine  coquetry ;  but 
this  was  the  fault  of  the  time,  when  affectation  entered 
into  everything,  even  passion.  But  this  time  it  was  not 
a  melancholy  expression  on  which  he  reckoned.  The  joy 
of  return  had  given  to  his  face  a  charming  expression  of 
happiness,  and  it  was  evident  that  a  glance  from  Bathilde 
would  crown  him  king  of  the  creation.  This  glance  he 
came  to  the  window  to  seek,  but  Bathilde's  remained 
closed.  D'Harmental  opened  his,  hoping  that  the  noise 
would  attract  her  attention;  nothing  stirred.  He  re- 
mained there  an  hour;  during  this  hour  there  was  not 
even  a  breath  of  wind  to  move  the  curtains ;  it  seemed 
as  if  the  young  girl's  room  had  been  abandoned.  He 
coughed,  opened  and  closed  the  window,  detached  little 
pieces  of  plaster  from  the  wall,  and  threw  them  against 
the  panes,  —  all  in  vain. 


JEALOUSY.  305 

To  surprise  succeeded  uneasiness ;  this  window  so  obsti- 
nately closed  must  indicate  absence,  if  not  misfortune. 
Bathilde  absent !  Where  could  she  be  1  What  had 
happened  to  disturb  her  calm,  regular  life  ?  Where  could 
he  seek  information  1  No  one  but  Madame  Denis  could 
know.  It  was  quite  natural  that  D'Harmental  should  pay 
a  visit  to  his  landlady  on  his  return,  and  he  accordingly 
went  down.  Madame  Denis  had  not  seen  him  since  the 
day  of  the  breakfast.  She  had  not  forgotten  his  attention 
when  she  fainted.  She  received  him  therefore  like  the 
prodigal  son. 

Fortunately  for  D'Harmental,  the  young  ladies  were 
occupied  with  a  drawing-lesson,  and  Boniface  was  at  his 
office,  so  that  he  saw  no  one  but  his  hostess.  The  conver- 
sation fell  naturally  on  the  order  and  neatness  of  his  room 
during  his  absence ;  from  this  the  transition  was  easy  to 
the  question  if  the  opposite  lodging  had  changed  tenants. 
Madame  Denis  replied  that  she  had  seen  Bathilde  at  the 
window  the  morning  before ;  and  that  in  the  evening  her 
son  had  met  Buvat  returning  from  his  office,  but  had 
noticed  in  him  a  singular  air  of  pride  and  hauteur. 

This  was  all  D'Harmental  wished  to  know.  Bathilde 
was  in  Paris  and  at  home  ;  chance  had  not  yet  directed  her 
looks  toward  that  window  so  long  closed,  and  that  room 
so  long  empty.  He  took  leave  of  Madame  Denis  with  an 
effusion  of  gratitude  which  she  was  far  from  attributing 
to  its  true  cause. 

On  the  landing  D'Harmental  met  the  Abbe  Brigaud, 
who  was  coming  to  pay  his  daily  visit  to  Madame  Denis. 
The  abbe  asked  if  he  was  going  home,  and  promised  to 
pay  him  a  visit.  On  entering  his  room,  D'Harmental  went 
straight  to  the  window.  Nothing  was  changed  in  regard 
to  his  neighbor;  her  curtains  were  still  scrupulously 
closed.     Decidedly  this  reserve  was  intentional.     D'Har- 

20 


306  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

mental  resolved  to  employ  the  last  means  which  he  had 
reserved.  He  sat  down  to  the  piano,  and  after  a  brilliant 
prelude  sang  the  air  of  the  cantata  of  "  Night "  which  he 
had  heard  the  evening  before,  and  of  which  he  had  re^ 
tained  every  note  in  his  memory.  Meanwhile  he  did  not 
lose  sight  for  an  instant  of  the  inexorable  window ;  but 
there  was  no  sign.     The  opposite  room  had  no  echo. 

But  failing  of  the  result  which  he  intended,  D'Har- 
mental  had  produced  an  effect  which  he  did  not  intend. 
Hearing  applause,  he  turned  round,  and  saw  the  Abbe 
Brigaud  behind  him.  "Ah,  it  is  you,  Abbe ! " said  he, 
rising  and  going  quickly  to  close  the  window ;  "  I  did  not 
know  that  you  were  so  great  a  lover  of  music." 

"Nor  I  that  you  were  so  good  a  musician.  Pestef 
my  dear  pupil ;  an  air  you  heard  only  once !  It  is 
wonderful !  * 

*  I  thought  it  very  beautiful,  Abbe ;  and  as  I  have  a  very 
good  memory  for  sounds,  I  retained  it." 

"  And  then  it  was  so  admirably  sung  ;  was  it  not  1 " 

"  Yes,"  said  D'Harmental ;  "  Mademoiselle  Bury  has  an 
exquisite  voice,  and  the  first  time  she  sings  I  shall  go  in- 
cognito to  the  opera." 

"  Is  it  that  voice  you  want  to  hear  1 "  asked  Brigaud. 

"Yes." 

"  You  need  not  go  to  the  opera  for  that." 

"  And  where  must  I  go  1 " 

"  Nowhere.     Stay  here.     You  are  in  the  boxes." 

"  What !     The  Goddess  of  Night  —  " 

"  Is  your  neighbor." 

"  Bathilde  !  "  cried  D'Harmental.  "  Then  I  was  not  de- 
ceived ;  I  recognized  her.  But  it  is  impossible !  How 
could  she  have  been  there  %  " 

"First  of  all,"  said  the  abb£,  "nothing  is  impossible  in 
these  times ;  remember  that,  before  you  deny  or  undertake 


JEALOUSY.  307 

anything.  Believe  that  everything  is  possible;  it  is  the 
way  to  succeed  in  everything." 

"But  Bathilde?" 

"  Yes  ;  does  it  not  appear  strange  at  first  view  1  Well, 
nothing  is  more  simple.  But  it  does  not  interest  you, 
Chevalier;   let  us  talk  of  something  else." 

a  Yes,  yes,  Abbe  !  you  are  strangely  mistaken ;  I  am 
deeply  interested." 

"  Well,  my  dear  pupil,  since  you  are  so  curious,  this  is 
the  whole  affair.  The  Abbe  de  Chaulieu  knows  Mademoi- 
selle Bathilde;   is  not  that  your  neighbor's  name?" 

"  Yes.     How  does  the  Abbe  de  Chaulieu  know  her  1 " 

"Oh,  very  naturally.  The  guardian  of  this  charming 
child  is,  as  you  know,  or  do  not  know,  one  of  the  best 
writers  and  copyists  in  the  capital.  The  Abbe  de  Chaulieu 
wants  some  one  to  copy  his  poetry,  since,  being  blind,  he 
is  obliged  to  dictate  in  the  first  instance  to  a  little  lackey 
who  cannot  spell ;  and  he  has  confided  this  important  task 
to  Buvat.  By  this  means  he  has  become  acquainted  with 
Mademoiselle  Bathilde." 

"But  all  this  does  not  explain  how  Mademoiselle 
Bathilde  came  to  Sceaux." 

"  Stop  ;  every  history  has  its  beginning,  its  middle,  and 
its  termination." 

"  Abbe,  you  will  make  me  swear." 

"  Patience,  patience  ! " 

"  Go  on  ;  I  listen  to  you." 

"  Well,  having  made  Mademoiselle  Bathilde's  acquaint- 
ance, the  Abbe  de  Chaulieu,  like  the  rest,  has  felt  the  in- 
fluence of  her  charms ;  for  you  know  there  is  a  sort  of 
magic  attached  to  the  young  person  in  question,  and  that 
no  one  can  see  her  without  loving  her." 

"  I  know  it,"  murmured  D'Harmental. 

"  Then,  as  Mademoiselle  Bathilde  is  full  of  talent,  and 


308  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

not  only  sings  like  a  nightingale,  but  draws  like  an  angel, 
Chaulieu  spoke  of  her  so  enthusiastically  to  Mademoiselle 
de  Launay  that  she  thought  of  employing  her  for  the 
costumes  of  the   different  personages  in  the  fete." 

"  All  this  does  not  tell  me  that  it  was  Bathilde  and  not 
Mademoiselle  Bury  who  sang  last  night." 

"  We  are  coming  to  it." 

"  Well  1 " 

"  It  happened  that  Mademoiselle  de  Launay,  like  the 
rest  of  the  world,  took  a  violent  fancy  to  the  little  magician. 
Instead  of  sending  her  away  after  the  costumes  were 
designed,  she  kept  her  three  days  at  Sceaux.  She  was 
still  there  day  before  yesterday,  closeted  with  Mademoi- 
selle de  Launay,  when  some  one  entered  with  a  bewildered 
air  to  announce  to  your  Bat  that  the  director  of  the 
opera  wished  to  speak  to  her  on  a  matter  of  importance. 
Mademoiselle  de  Launay  went  out,  leaving  Bathilde  alone. 
Bathilde,  to  amuse  herself,  went  to  the  piano,  and  finding 
both  the  instrument  and  her  voice  in  good  order,  began  to 
sing  a  grand  air  from  some  opera,  and  with  such  perfection 
that  Mademoiselle  de  Launay,  returning  and  hearing  this 
unexpected  song,  opened  the  door  softly,  listened  to  the 
air,  and  threw  her  arms  round  the  beautiful  singer's  neck, 
crying  out  that  she  could  save  her  life.  Bathilde,  aston- 
ished, asked  in  what  manner  she  could  render  her  so  great 
a  service.  Then  Mademoiselle  de  Launay  told  her  that  she 
had  engaged  Mademoiselle  Bury  of  the  opera  to  sing  the 
cantata  of  '  Night '  on  the  succeeding  evening,  and  she  had 
fallen  ill  and  sent  to  say  that  to  her  great  regret  her  royal 
Highness  the  Duchesse  du  Maine  could  not  rely  upon  her  ; 
so  that  there  would  be  no  *  Night,'  and  consequently  no 
fete,  if  Bathilde  would  not  have  the  extreme  goodness  to 
undertake  the  aforesaid  cantata. 

"  Bathilde,  as  you  may  suppose,  defended  herself  with 


JEALOUSY.  309 

all  her  might,  and  declared  that  it  was  impossible  that  she 
should  thus  sing  music  which  she  did  not  know.  Made- 
moiselle de  Launay  put  the  cantata  before  her.  Bathilde 
said  that  the  music  seemed  terribly  difficult.  Mademoiselle 
de  Launay  answered  that  for  a  musician  of  Bathilde's 
powers  nothing  was  difficult.  Bathilde  got  up.  Mademoi- 
selle de  Launay  made  her  sit  down  again.  Bathilde  clasped 
her  hands.  Mademoiselle  de  Launay  unclasped  them  and 
placed  them  on  the  piano.  The  piano,  being  touched,  gave 
out  a  sound.  Bathilde,  in  spite  of  herself,  played  the  first 
bar,  then  the  second,  then  the  whole  cantata.  Then  she 
attacked  the  song,  and  sang  it  to  the  end  with  an  admi- 
rable justness  of  intonation  and  beauty  of  expression. 
Mademoiselle  de  Launay  was  enchanted.  Madame  du 
Maine  arrived  in  despair  at  what  she  had  heard  about 
Mademoiselle  Bury.  Mademoiselle  de  Launay  begged 
Bathilde  to  begin  the  cantata  again.  Bathilde  did  not 
dare  to  refuse ;  she  played  and  sang  like  an  angel.  Madame 
du  Maine  joined  her  prayers  to  those  of  Mademoiselle  de 
Launay.  You  know,  Chevalier,  that  it  is  impossible  to 
refuse  Madame  du  Maine  anything. 

"  Poor  Bathilde  was  obliged  to  give  way,  and  half 
laughing,  half  crying,  she  consented,  on  two  conditions  : 
the  first,  that  she  might  go  herself  to  her  friend  Buvat  to 
explain  her  absence  ;  the  second,  that  she  might  remain  at 
home  all  that  evening  and  the  next  morning  in  order  to 
study  the  unfortunate  cantata.  These  clauses,  after  a 
long  discussion,  were  granted,  with  reciprocal  promises,  — 
on  Bathilde's  part,  that  she  would  return  at  seven  o'clock 
the  next  evening ;  on  the  part  of  Mademoiselle  de  Launay 
and  Madame  du  Maine,  that  every  one  should  continue  to 
believe  that  it  was  Mademoiselle  Bury  who  sang." 

"  But  then,"  asked  D'Harmental,  "  how  was  the  secret 
betrayed  ? " 


310  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

"  Oh  !  by  an  unforeseen  circumstance,"  replied  Brigaud, 
in  that  strange  manner  which  caused  one  to  doubt 
whether  he  was  in  jest  or  earnest.  "  All  went  off 
capitally,  as  you  know,  till  the  end  of  the  cantata ;  as  is 
proved  by  the  fact  that  having  heard  it  but  once,  you  are 
able  to  remember  it  from  one  end  to  the  other.  At  the 
moment  the  galley  which  brought  us  from  the  pavilion 
of  Aurora  touched  the  shore,  whether  from  emotion  at 
having  sung  for  the  first  time  in  public,  or  because  she 
recognized  in  Madame  du  Maine's  suite  some  one  she  had 
not  expected  to  see  there,  —  for  some  unknown  reason,  the 
poor  Goddess  of  Night  uttered  a  cry  and  fainted  in  the 
arms  of  the  Hours,  her  companions.  All  promises  and 
oaths  were  at  once  forgotten.  Her  veil  was  removed  to 
throw  water  in  her  face  ;  so  that  when  I  came  up,  while 
you  were  going  away  with  her  Highness,  I  was  much 
astonished  to  find,  instead  of  Mademoiselle  Bury,  your 
pretty  neighbor.  I  questioned  Mademoiselle  de  Launay, 
and  as  it  was  impossible  any  longer  to  keep  the  incog- 
nito, she  told  me  what  had  happened,  —  under  the 
seal  of  secrecy,  which  I  have  betrayed  for  you  only, 
my  dear  pupil ;  because,  I  don't  know  why,  I  can  refuse 
you  nothing." 

"  And  this  indisposition  1 "  asked  D'Harmental,  with 
uneasiness. 

"  Oh,  it  was  nothing, —  the  effect  of  a  momentary  emo- 
tion ;  and  it  had  no  bad  consequences,  since,  in  spite 
of  all  they  could  say  to  the  contrary,  Bathilde  would  not 
remain  another  hour  at  Sceaux,  but  insisted  on  returning. 
They  put  a  carriage  at  her  disposal,  and  she  ought  to  have 
been  at  home  an  hour  before  us."  t 

"  Then  you  are  sure  she  is  at  home  1  Thanks,  Abbe ; 
that  is  all  I  wished  to  know." 

"  And   now,"  said   Brigaud,  "  I  may  go,  may  I  not  ] 


JEALOUSY.  311 

You  have  no  more  need  of  me,  now  that  you  know  all  you 
wish  to  know." 

"  I  do  not  say  so,  my  dear  Brigaud  ;  on  the  contrary, 
stay.     You  will  give  me  great  pleasure." 

"  No,  I  thank  you  ;  I  have  some  husiness  of  my  own  to 
transact  in  the  town,  and  will  leave  you  to  your  reflections, 
my  dear  pupil." 

"  When  shall  I  see  you  again  1 "  asked  D'Harniental, 
mechanically. 

"  Most  likely  to-morrow,"  answered  the  abbe. 

"  Adieu  till  to-morrow,  then." 

"  Till  to-morrow." 

So  saying,  the  abbe  turned  round,  laughing  in  his 
peculiar  manner,  and  reached  the  door  while  D'Harmental 
was  reopening  his  window,  determined  to  remain  there 
till  the  next  day,  if  necessary,  even  though  as  a  reward 
for  this  long  watch  he  should  catch  only  a  single  glimpse 
of  Bathilde. 

The  poor  gentleman  was  in  love  over  head  and  ears. 


312  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HAR MENTAL. 


CHAPTEE  XXVIII. 

A    PRETEXT. 

At  a  few  minutes  past  four  D'Harmental  saw  Buvat 
turning  the  corner  of  the  Rue  du  Temps-Perdu.  The 
chevalier  observed  that  the  worthy  writer  moved  with 
more  haste  than  usual,  and  that  instead  of  holding  his 
stick  vertically,  as  a  bourgeois  generally  does  when  he  is 
walking,  he  held  it  horizontally,  like  a  runner.  As  to 
that  appearance  of  majesty  which  had  so  struck  Monsieur 
Boniface,  it  had  entirely  vanished,  and  had  given  place  to 
a  slight  expression  of  uneasiness.  There  was  no  misun- 
derstanding this ;  Buvat  would  not  return  so  quickly  if 
he  was  not  uneasy  about  Bathilde.  Bathilde,  then,  was 
suffering. 

The  chevalier  followed  Buvat  with  his  eyes  till  the 
moment  when  he  disappeared  through  the  door  of  the 
passage-way  to  his  house.  D'Harmental,  with  reason, 
imagined  that  Buvat  would  go  into  Bathilde's  room,  in- 
stead of  mounting  to  his  own ;  and  he  hoped  that  Buvat 
would  open  the  window  to  admit  the  last  rays  of  the  sun, 
which  had  been  caressing  it  all  day. 

But  D'Harmental  was  wrong ;  Buvat  contented  himself 
with  raising  the  curtain,  and  pressing  his  good  round  face 
against  the  window,  and  drumming  on  the  panes  with  his 
hands.  But  even  this  appearance  was  of  short  duration,  for 
he  turned  round  suddenly,  as  a  man  does  when  any  one 
calls  him ;  he  let  fall  the  muslin  curtain  behind  him,  and 
so  was  out  of  sight.     D'Harmental  presumed  that  his  dis- 


A  PRETEXT.  313 

appearance  was  caused  by  some  appeal  to  his  appetite, 
and  this  reminded  him  that  in  his  preoccupation  about 
the  obstinacy  of  that  unlucky  window  in  refusing  to  open, 
he  had  forgotten  his  own  breakfast,  which,  it  must  be 
confessed,  to  the  shame  of  his  sensibility,  was  a  very  great 
infraction  on  his  habits.  Now,  however,  as  there  was  no 
chance  that  the  window  would  open  while  his  neighbors 
were  at  dinner,  the  chevalier  determined  to  profit  by  the 
interval  by  dining  himself ;  consequently  he  rang  for 
the  porter,  and  ordered  him  to  get  from  the  confectioner 
the  fattest  pullet,  and  from  the  fruiterer  the  finest  fruit 
that  he  could  find.  As  to  wine,  he  still  had  some  bottles 
of  that  which  the  Abbe  Brigaud  had  sent  him. 

D'Harmental  ate  with  a  certain  remorse.  He  could 
not  understand  how  he  could  be  at  the  same  time  so 
tormented,  and  have  such  a  good  appetite.  Luckily  he 
remembered  reading  in  the  works  of  some  moralist  or 
other  that  sorrow  sharpens  hunger  wonderfully.  This 
maxim  set  his  conscience  at  rest,  and  the  result  was  that 
the  unfortunate  pullet  was  eaten  up  to  the  very  bones. 

Although  the  act  of  dining  was  very  natural,  and  by  no 
means  reprehensible,  D'Harmental,  before  seating  himself 
at  the  table,  shut  the  window,  contriving,  however,  in 
closing  the  curtains,  to  leave  a  slight  opening  between 
them,  through  which  he  could  see  the  upper  stories  of  the 
house  opposite  to  his.  Thanks  to  this  precaution,  just  as 
he  finished  his  repast  he  perceived  Buvat,  who,  having 
doubtless  finished  his  own  dinner,  appeared  at  the  window 
of  his  terrace.  As  we  have  said,  the  weather  was  splen- 
did, and  Buvat  seemed  disposed  to  profit  by  it ;  but  as 
he  belonged  to  that  class  of  beings  who  enjoy  nothing 
alone,  he  turned  round  with  a  gesture  which  D'Harmental 
took  to  be  an  invitation  to  Bathilde  —  who  had  doubtless 
followed  him  into  his  room  —  to  come  out  on  the  terrace 


314  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

with  him.  Consequently,  he  hoped  for  an  instant  that 
Bathilde  would  appear,  and  he  rose  with  a  beating  heart ; 
but  he  was  mistaken.  However  tempting  might  be  the 
beautiful  evening,  and  however  pressing  the  invitations 
of  Buvat,  both  were  useless.  But  it  was  not  so  with 
Mirza,  who,  jumping  out  of  the  window  without  being 
invited,  began  to  bound  joyously  about  the  terrace,  hold- 
ing in  her  mouth  a  purple  ribbon,  which  she  caused  to 
flutter  like  a  streamer,  and  which  D'Harmental  recognized 
as  the  one  which  had  fastened  his  neighbor's  hat  on  the 
preceding  night.  Apparently  Buvat  recognized  it  also,  for 
he  started  off  in  pursuit  of  Mirza  as  fast  as  his  little  legs 
would  allow  him,  —  a  pursuit  which  would  doubtless  have 
been  indefinitely  prolonged,  if  Mirza  had  not  had  the  im- 
prudence to  take  refuge  in  the  famous  cavern  of  the  hydra 
of  which  we  have  given  our  readers  so  full  a  description. 
Buvat  hesitated  to  extend  his  arm  into  the  cave,  but  at 
length,  mustering  his  courage,  he  followed  the  fugitive, 
and  a  moment  later  D'Harmental  saw  him  return  with 
the  ribbon  in  his  hand,  which  he  passed  back  and  forth 
on  his  knee  to  efface  the  wrinkles,  after  which  he  folded 
it  up,  and  went  in,  probably  to  deposit  it  in  some  drawer 
where  it  would  be  safe  from  Mirza's  roguery. 

This  was  the  moment  that  the  chevalier  had  waited  for. 
He  opened  his  window  and  watched.  In  a  minute  Mirza 
put  her  head  out  of  the  cavern,  looked  about  her,  yawned, 
shook  her  ears,  and  jumped  upon  the  terrace ;  then  D'Har- 
mental called  her  in  the  most  caressing  and  seductive  tone 
which  he  could  command.  Mirza  trembled  at  the  sound 
of  his  voice,  then  directed  her  eyes  toward  him.  At  the 
first  look  she  recognized  the  man  of  the  bits  of  sugar,  gave 
a  little  growl  of  joy,  then,  with  a  rapid  gastronomic  in- 
stinct, she  darted  through  Buvat's  window  with  a  single 
bound,  and  disappeared. 


A  PRETEXT.  315 

D'Harmental  looked  down,  and  almost  at  the  same 
instant  saw  Mirza  coming  across  the  street  like  a  flash 
of  lightning;  before  he  had  time  to  shut  his  window, 
she  was  already  scratching  at  the  door.  Fortunately  for 
D'Harmental,  Mirza  had  the  memory  of  sugar  as  strongly 
developed  as  he  had  that  of  sounds. 

It  will  be  easily  understood  that  the  chevalier  did  not 
make  the  charming  little  creature  wait;  and  she  darted 
into  the  room,  bounding,  and  giving  the  most  unequivocal 
signs  of  joy  at  his  unexpected  return.  As  to  D'Harmental, 
he  was  almost  as  happy  as  if  he  had  seen  Bathilde.  Mirza 
was  something  to  the  young  girl ;  she  was  her  dearly 
loved  greyhound,  so  caressed  and  kissed  by  her,  who  laid 
her  head  on  Bathilde's  knees  in  the  daytime,  and  slept  on 
the  foot  of  her  bed  at  night,  —  the  confidante  of  her  sor- 
rows and  of  her  happiness,  and  a  messenger  also,  safe  and 
speedy;  it  was  in  this  latter  capacity  that  D'Harmental 
had  summoned  her  to  him,  and  had  received  her  so  hos- 
pitably. The  chevalier  set  Mirza  to  eating  sugar,  and  sat 
down  at  his  desk.  Letting  his  heart  speak,  and  his  pen 
run  on,  he  wrote  the  following  letter :  — 

Dearest  Bathilde,  —  You  believe  me  very  guilty,  do 
you  not  1  But  you  cannot  know  the  strange  circumstances 
in  which  I  find  myself,  and  which  are  my  excuse.  If  I  could 
be  happy  enough  to  see  you  for  an  instant  (even  for  an 
instant)  you  would  understand  that  there  are  in  me  two 
different  persons,  —  the  young  student  of  the  attic,  and  the 
gentleman  of  the  fetes  at  Sceaux.  Open  your  window,  then, 
so  that  I  may  see  you,  or  your  door,  so  that  I  may  speak  to 
you.  Let  me  come  and  sue  for  your  pardon  on  my  knees. 
I  am  certain  that  when  you  know  how  unfortunate  I  am,  and 
how  devotedly  I  love  you,  you  will  have  pity  on  me. 

Adieu,  or  rather  au  revoir,  dear  Bathilde ;  I  love  you  more 
than  I  can  express,  more  than  you  can  believe,  more  than  you 

Raoul. 


316  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

This  letter,  which  would  have  appeared  very  cold  to 
a  woman  of  these  days,  because  it  said  only  what  the 
writer  intended,  seemed  sufficient  to  the  chevalier,  and 
was  really  impassioned  for  that  time.  D'Harmental  folded 
it  up,  and  attached  it,  as  he  had  the  first,  to  Mirza's  collar ; 
then,  taking  up  the  sugar,  which  the  greedy  little  animal 
followed  with  her  eyes  to  the  cupboard,  where  he  shut  it 
up,  the  chevalier  opened  the  door  of  his  room,  and  showed 
Mirza,  with  a  gesture,  what  there  remained  for  her  to  do. 
Whether  it  was  pride  or  intelligence,  the  littlo  creature  did 
not  wait  to  be  told  twice ;  she  darted  out  on  the  staircase, 
stopped  on  the  way  only  to  bite  Monsieur  Boniface,  whom 
she  met  coming  home  from  his  office,  crossed  the  road, 
and  disappeared  in  the  passage-way  to  Bathilde's  house. 
D'Harmental  remained  at  the  window  for  a  minute,  fear- 
ing that  Mirza  would  take  his  note  to  Buvat  instead  of 
Bathilde ;  but  she  was  too  intelligent  for  that,  and  since 
he  did  not  see  her  at  the  window  of  the  terrace,  he  saga- 
ciously inferred  that  she  had  stopped  in  the  fourth  story. 
Consequently,  in  order  not  to  frighten  poor  Bathilde  too 
much,  he  shut  his  window,  hoping  that  by  this  concession 
he  should  obtain  some  sign  which  would  indicate  to  him 
that  he  might  yet  be  pardoned. 

But  it  had  no  such  result.  D'Harmental  waited  in  vain 
all  the  evening  and  a  part  of  the  night.  At  eleven  o'clock, 
the  light,  scarcely  seen  through  the  double  curtains  still 
hermetically  closed,  went  out  altogether.  D'Harmental 
watched  an  hour  longer  at  his  open  window,  ready  to  seize 
the  first  opportunity  for  reconciliation  ;  but  nothing  ap- 
peared. All  was  silent  and  dark  ;  and  he  was  obliged  to 
renounce  the  hope  of  seeing  Bathilde  till  the  next  day. 

The  next  day  brought  the  same  rigid  reserve ;  it  was 
a  settled  plan  of  defence,  which,  to  a  man  less  in  love 
than  D'Harmental,  would  simply  have  indicated  fear  of 


A  PRETEXT.  317 

defeat ;  but  the  chevalier,  with  a  simplicity  worthy  of  the 
age  of  gold,  saw  nothing  hut  a  coldness,  in  the  eternity 
of  which  he  began  to  believe ;  it  is  true  that  it  had  lasted 
twenty-four  hours. 

D'Harmental  occupied  himself  all  the  first  half  of  the 
day  with  turning  in  his  mind  a  thousand  projects,  each 
more  absurd  than  those  that  came  before  it.  The  only  one 
which  was  characterized  by  common-sense  was  to  cross 
the  street,  mount  boldly  to  Bathilde's  room,  and  tell  her 
everything.  It  came  to  his  mind  like  all  the  rest ;  and  as 
it  was  the  only  reasonable  one,  D'Harmental  was  very 
careful  not  to  stop  at  it.  And  indeed,  it  would  be  a  great 
boldness  to  present  himself  thus  before  Bathilde,  without 
being  authorized  by  the  least  sign,  and  without  having 
any  pretext  to  give.  Such  a  course  of  conduct  could  but 
wound  her,  and  she  was  only  too  much  irritated  already ; 
it  was  better  to  wait,  then,  and  D'Harmental  waited. 

At  two  o'clock  Brigaud  returned,  and  found  D'Har- 
mental in  a  very  savage  state  of  mind.  The  abbe  threw 
a  glance  toward  the  window,  still  hermetically  closed,  and 
divined  everything.  He  took  a  chair,  and  sat  down  oppo- 
site D'Harmental,  twisting  his  thumbs  round  one  another, 
as  he  saw  the  chevalier  doing. 

"My  dear  pupil,"  said  he,  after  a  moment's  silence, 
"either  I  am  a  bad  physiognomist,  or  I  read  on  your 
face  that  something  profoundly  sad  has  happened  to 
you." 

"And  you  read  right,  my  dear  Abbe,"  said  the  cheva- 
lier ;  "I  am  ennuye." 

"Ah,  really  V 

"  So  much  so,"  said  D'Harmental,  "  that  I  am  ready  to 
send  your  conspiracy  to  the  devil." 

"Oh,  Chevalier,  one  must  not  throw  the  helve  after 
the  hatchet !     What  I  send  the  conspiracy  to  the  devil, 


318  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

when  it  is  going  on  wheels  ?  Nonsense !  and  what  will 
the  others  say?" 

"  Oh,  you  are  charming,  —  you  and  your  others.  The 
others,  my  dear  Abbe,  have  society,  balls,  the  opera, 
duels,  mistresses,  —  amusements,  in  short ;  they  are  not 
shut  up,   like  me,  in  a  miserable  garret." 

"Yes;  but  the  piano,  the  drawing?" 

"  Even  with  this,  it  is  not  amusing." 

"  Ah,  it  is  not  amusing  when  one  sings  or  draws  alone ; 
but  when  one  sings  or  draws  in  company,  it  begins  to  be 
better." 

"  And  with  whom,  in  the  devil's  name,  should  I  sing  or 
draw?" 

"  In  the  first  place,  there  are  the  Demoiselles  Denis." 

"  Oh,  yes,  they  sing  beautifully  and  draw  well,  do  they 
not?" 

"Mon  Dieu  !  I  do  not  propose  them  to  you  as  virtuosos 
and  artists ;  they  have  not  the  talents  of  your  neighbor. 
But,  by  the  bye,  there  is  your  neighbor." 

"  Well,  my  neighbor  ? " 

"Why  do  you  not  sing  with  her,  since  she  sings  so 
well?     That  will  amuse  you." 

"Do  I  know  her?  Does  she  even  open  her  window? 
Look,  since  yesterday  she  has  barricaded  herself  in  her 
own  room.     Ah,  yes,  my  neighbor  is  amiable  ! " 

"  Yes,  they  told  me  that  she  was  charming." 

"  Besides,  it  seems  to  me  that  both  singing  in  our  own 
rooms,  we  should  have  a  singular  duet." 

"  Then  go  to  her  room." 

"  To  her  room  !  Have  I  been  introduced  to  her  1  Do 
I  know  her?" 

"  Well,  make  a  pretext." 

"  I  have  been  searching  for  one  since  yesterday." 

"And  you  have  not  found  one?     A  man  of  imagina- 


A  PRETEXT.  319 

tion  like  you !  My  dear  pupil,  I  do  not  recognize  you 
there." 

"  Listen,  Abbe  !  A  truce  to  your  pleasantries !  I  am 
not  in  the  humor  for  them  to-day;  every  one  has  his 
stupid  days." 

"Well,  on  those  days  one  addresses  himself  to  his 
friends." 

"  To  his  friends  !     And  for  what  ? " 

"  To  find  the  pretext  which  he  has  himself  sought  for 
in  vain." 

"Well,  then,  Abbe,  you  are  my  friend;  find  the 
pretext.     I    wait   for   it." 

"  Nothing  is  easier." 

"Keally!" 

"  Do  you  want  it  V    . 

"  Take  care  what  you  engage  to  do." 

"  I  engage  to  open  your  neighbor's  door  to  you." 

"  In  a  proper  manner  1 " 

"  What !  do  I  know  any  others  1 " 

"  Abbe,  I  will  strangle  you  if  your  pretext  is  bad." 

"And  if  it  is  good?" 

"If  it  is  good,  Abbe\  if  it  is  good,  —  you  are  an  ador- 
able man." 

"  You  remember  what  the  Comte  de  Laval  said  about 
the  descent  which  the  police  have  made  upon  the  house 
in  the  Val-de-Grace,  and  the  necessity  he  was  under  of 
sending  away  his  workmen  and  burying  his  press?" 

"  Perfectly." 

"  You  remember  the  determination  which  was  come  to 
in  consequence?" 

"  Yes  ;  to  employ  a  copyist." 

"  Finally,  you  remember  that  I  undertook  to  find  that 
copyist  1 " 

"  I  do." 


320  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

"  Well,  this  copyist  on  whom  I  had  cast  my  eyes,  this 
honest  man  whom  I  promised  to  discover,  is  discovered, 
and  is  no  other  than  the  guardian  of  Bathilde." 

"Buvatl" 

"  Himself !  Well,  I  give  you  full  powers.  You  go  to 
his  house ;  you  offer  him  gold ;  the  door  is  opened  wide 
to  you,  and  you  can  sing  as  much  as  you  like  with 
Bathilde." 

"  My  dear  Abbe,"  cried  D'Harmental,  "  you  have  saved 
my  life!" 

D'Harmental  took  his  hat,  and  darted  toward  the  door; 
now  that  he  had  a  pretext,  he  doubted  of  nothing. 

"  Stop,  stop !  "  said  Brigaud ;  "  you  do  not  even  ask  me 
where  the  good  man  must  go  for  the  papers  in  question." 

"  To  your  house,  of  course  ! " 

"  Certainly  not,  young  man,  certainly  not." 

"Where,  then?" 

"To  the  Prince  de  Listhnay's,  Rue  du  Bac,  110." 

"  The  Prince  de  Listhnay  !  and  who  is  he  1 " 

"  A  prince  of  our  own  making,  —  D'Avranches,  the 
valet-de-chambre   to    Madame   du   Maine." 

"  And  you  think  that  he  will  play  his  part  well  1 " 

"  Not  well  enough  for  you,  perhaps,  who  are  accustomed 
to  see  princes,  but  for  Buvat  —  " 

"  You  are  right.     Au  revoir,  Abbe\" 

"  You  find  the  pretext  good  % " 

"Capital." 

"  Go,  then,  and  good  luck  go  with  you  ! " 

D'Harmental  descended  the  stairs  four  at  a  time; 
having  arrived  at  the  middle  of  the  street,  and  seeing 
the  abbe  watching  him  from  the  window,  he  made  a  part- 
ing sign  to  him  with  his  hand,  and  disappeared  through 
the  door  of  the  passage-way  to  Bathilde's  house. 


COUNTERPLOTS.  321 


CHAPTEE    XXIX. 

COUNTERPLOTS. 

On  her  part,  as  may  be  easily  understood,  Bathilde  had 
not  made  such  an  effort  without  suffering  from  it;  the 
poor  child  loved  D'Harmental  with  all  the  strength  of  a 
love  at  seventeen,  —  a  first  love.  During  the  first  month 
of  his  absence  she  had  counted  the  days ;  during  the  fifth 
week  she  had  counted  the  hours;  during  the  last  week 
she  had  counted  the  minutes.  Then  it  was  that  the  Abbe" 
de  Chaulieu  had  come  for  her,  to  take  her  to  Mademoiselle 
de  Launay;  and  as  he  had  taken  care,  not  only  to  speak 
of  her  talents,  but  also  to  tell  who  she  was,  Bathilde  had 
been  received  with  all  the  consideration  which  was  due  to 
her,  and  which  poor  De  Launay  paid  all  the  more  readily 
because  it  had  been  so  long  forgotten  toward  herself. 

This  visit,  which  had  rendered  Buvat  so  proud,  had 
been  welcomed  by  Bathilde  as  a  distraction,  which  might 
help  her  to  pass  these  last  moments  of  suspense ;  but 
when  she  found  that  Mademoiselle  de  Launay  wished  to 
retain  her  the  very  day  on  which,  according  to  her  calcu- 
lation, Raoul  would  return,  she  heartily  regretted  her  visit 
to  Sceaux,  and  would  certainly  have  refused  if  Madame 
du  Maine  herself  had  not  interposed.  It  was  impossible 
to  refuse  a  person  who,  according  to  the  ideas  of  the  time, 
from  the  supremacy  of  her  rank,  had  almost  a  right  to 
command  this  service;  but  as  she  would  have  reproached 
herself  eternally  if  Raoul  had  returned  in  her  absence, 
and  on  returning  had  found  her  window  closed,  she  had, 

21 


322  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

as  we  have  seen,  insisted  on  returning  to  study  the  can- 
tata, and  to  explain  to  Buvat  what  had  taken  place. 
Poor  Bathilde!  she  had  invented  two  false  pretexts,  to 
hide  under  a  double  veil  the  true  motive  of  her  return. 

If  Buvat  had  been  proud  when  Bathilde  was  employed 
to  design  the  costumes  for  the  fete,  he  was  doubly  so 
when  he  found  that  she  was  destined  to  play  a  part,  in  it. 
He  had  constantly  dreamed  of  Bathilde's  return  to  for- 
tune, and  to  that  social  position  of  which  her  parents' 
death  had  deprived  her;  and  anything  that  put  her  in 
communication  with  the  social  circle  to  which  she  be- 
longed, appeared  to  him  a  step  toward  this  inevitable 
and  happ}'  result.    ' 

Nevertheless,  the  experiment  had  borne  heavily  on  him. 
The  three  days  which  he  had  passed  without  seeing  Ba- 
thilde had  appeared  to  him  like  three  centuries.  At  the 
office  it  was  not  so  bad,  though  every  one  could  see  that 
some  extraordinary  event  had  happened;  but  when  he 
came  home,  poor  Buvat  found  himself  altogether  miserable. 
The  first  day  he  could  not  eat  when  he  sat  down  alone  to 
that  table  where,  for  thirteen  years,  he  had  been  accus- 
tomed to  see  Bathilde  sitting  opposite  to  him.  The  next 
day,  when  Nanette  reproached  him,  and  told  him  that  he 
was  injuring  his  health,  he  made  an  effort  to  eat ;  but  he 
had  hardly  finished  his  meal  when  he  felt  as  if  he  had 
been  swallowing  lead ;  and  he  was  obliged  to  have  re- 
course to  the  most  powerful  digestives  to  help  down  this 
unfortunate  dinner.  The  third  day  Buvat  did  not  sit 
dowu  to  table  at  all,  and  Nanette  had  the  greatest 
trouble  to  persuade  him  to  take  some  broth,  into  which 
she  declared  she  saw  two  great  tears  fall.  At  last,  on 
the  evening  of  the  third  day,  Bathilde  returned,  and 
brought  back  his  sleep  and  his  appetite.  Buvat,  who  for 
three    nights    bad   hardly  slept,  and  for  three  days  had 


COUNTERPLOTS.  323 

hardly  eaten,  now  slept  like  a  top  and  ate  like  an 
ogre. 

Bathilde  also  was  very  joyous  ;  she  calculated  that  this 
must  be  the  last  day  of  Eaoul's  absence.  He  had  writ- 
ten to  her  that  he  should  be  away  six  weeks.  She  had 
already  counted  forty-one  long  days ;  the  six  weeks  had 
therefore  passed,  and  Bathilde,  judging  Raoul  by  herself, 
would  not  admit  that  there  could  be  an  instant's  delay. 
Therefore  the  next  day  she  watched  her  neighbor's  win- 
dow constantly  while  studying  the  cantata.  Carriages 
rarely  entered  the  Rue  du  Temps-Perdu,  but  it  happened 
that  three  passed  between  ten  and  four ;  every  time  a 
carriage  passed  she  ran  breathless  to  the  window,  and 
every  time  she  was  disappointed. 

Shortly  after  four  o'clock  Buvat  returned,  and  this  time 
it  was  Bathilde  who  could  not  swallow  a  single  morsel. 
The  time  to  set  out  for  Sceaux  at  length  arrived.  Ba- 
thilde went  for  the  last  time  to  her  window  ;  still  no  sign 
of  Eaoul's  return.  The  idea  that  his  absence  might  be 
prolonged  beyond  the  appointed  time  then  occurred  to  her 
for  the  first  time,  and  she  went  away  with  a  heavy  heart, 
and  regretting  more  than  ever  that  fete  which  prevented 
her  spending  the  night  watching  for  him  whom  already 
she  had  so  long  expected. 

When  she  arrived  at  Sceaux,  however,  the  lights,  the 
noise,  the  music,  and,  above  all,  the  excitement  of  singing 
for  the  first  time  in  public  diverted  her  attention  from 
thoughts  of  Raoul.  Once  the  idea  crossed  her  mind  that 
he  might  return  during  her  absence,  and  that  finding  her 
window  closed,  he  might  think  her  indifferent ;  but  then 
she  remembered  that  Mademoiselle  de  Launay  had  prom- 
ised her  that  she  should  return  home  before  daylight,  and 
she  determined  that  Raoul  should  see  her  standing  at  her 
window  as  soon  as  he  opened  his.     Then  she  would  ex- 


324  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

plain  to  him  how  she  had  been  obliged  to  be  absent  that 
evening ;  she  would  allow  him  to  suspect  what  she  had 
suffered;  and  if  she  might  judge  of  his  feelings  by  her 
own,  he  would  be  so  happy  that  he  would  forgive  her. 

All  this  passed  through  Bathilde's  mind  while  waiting 
for  Madame  du  Maine  on  the  border  of  the  lake ;  and  it 
was  in  the  midst  of  the  discourse  she  was  preparing  for 
Eaoul  that  the  approach  of  the  little  galley  surprised  her. 
At  first  —  in  her  fear  of  singing  before  such  a  great  com- 
pany —  she  thought  her  voice  would  fail ;  but  she  was  too 
good  a  musician  not  to  be  encouraged  by  the  admirable 
instrumentation  which  supported  her.  She  resolved  not 
to  allow  herself  to  be  intimidated,  and  abandoning  herself 
to  the  inspiration  of  the  music  and  of  the  scene,  she  went 
through  her  part  with  such  success  that  every  one  con- 
tinued to  take  her  for  the  singer  whom  she  replaced, 
although  that  singer  was  the  first  at  the  opera,  and  was 
supposed  to  have  no  rival. 

But  Bathilde's  astonishment  was  great  when,  after  the 
solo  was  finished,  she  looked  toward  the  group  which  was 
approaching  her,  and  saw,  seated  by  Madame  du  Maine, 
a  young  cavalier  so  much  like  Eaoul  that  if  this  appari- 
tion had  presented  itself  to  her  in  the  midst  of  the  song, 
her  voice  must  have  failed  her.  For  an  instant  she 
doubted ;  but  as  the  galley  touched  the  shore  she  could 
do  so  no  longer.  It  was  impossible  that  two  persons, 
though  brothers,  should  resemble  each  other  so  exactly ; 
it  was  certain  that  the  young  cavalier  of  Sceaux  and  the 
young  student  of  the  attic  were  one  and  the  same. 

This  was  not,  however,  what  wounded  Bathilde;  the 
rank  which  Eaoul  appeared  to  hold,  instead  of  removing 
him  from  the  daughter  of  Albert  du  Eocher,  only  brought 
him  nearer  to  her;  and  besides,  she  had  recognized  in 
him  at  first  sight,  as  he  had  in  her,  the  marks  of  high 


COUNTERPLOTS.  325 

birth.  What  wounded  her  —  as  a  betrayal  of  her  good 
faith  and  an  insult  to  her  love  —  was  this  pretended  ab- 
sence, during  which  Raoul,  forgetting  the  Rue  du  Temps- 
Perdu,  had  left  his  little  room  unoccupied  to  mix  in  the  f&tes 
at  Sceaux.  Thus  Raoul  had  had  but  an  instant's  caprice 
for  her,  sufficient  to  induce  him  to  pass  a  week  or  two  in 
an  attic ;  but  he  had  soon  got  tired  of  this  life.  Then, 
not  to  humiliate  Bathilde  too  much,  he  had  invented  the 
pretext  of  a  journey  ;  to  avoid  distressing  her,  he  had  pre- 
tended that  to  him  this  journey  was  a  misfortune.  But 
nothing  of  this  was  true ;  Raoul  had  not  left  Paris,  or  if 
he  had,  his  first  visit  on  his  return  had  been  elsewhere 
than  to  the  place  which  should  have  been  so  dear  to  him. 
In  this  accumulation  of  sorrows  there  was  enough  to 
wound  a  love  less  sensitive  than  that  of  Bathilde.  And 
therefore,  when  Raoul  touched  the  shore,  and  she  found 
herself  only  four  steps  from  him  ;  when  it  was  impossible 
for  her  longer  to  doubt  that  the  young  student  and  the 
handsome  nobleman  were  the  same ;  when  she  saw  him 
whom  she  had  supposed  to  be  a  young  provincial  offering 
his  arm  in  that  elegant  and  easy  manner  to  the  proud  Ma- 
dame du  Maine  herself,  —  her  strength  abandoned  her,  and 
with  that  cry  which  had  gone  to  D'Harrnental's  heart  she 
fainted.  On  opening  her  eyes,  she  found  near  her  Ma- 
demoiselle cle  Launay,  who  lavished  on  her  every  possible 
attention,  and  insisted  that  instead  of  returning  to  Paris 
Bathilde  should  remain  at  Sceaux  ;  but  she  was  in  haste 
to  leave  this  place  where  she  had  suffered  so  much,  and 
begged,  with  an  accent  that  could  not  be  refused,  to  be 
allowed  to  return  ;  a  carriage  was  in  readiness  to  take  her, 
and  she  went  directly. 

On  arriving,  Bathilde  found  Nanette  waiting  for  her. 
Buvat  also  had  intended  to  sit  up,  that  he  might  embrace 
Bathilde  on  her  return,  and  get  news  of  the  grand  fete ; 


326  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

but  by  twelve  o'clock  he  was  so  sleepy  that  it  was  in  vain 
he  rubbed  his  eyes,  and  tried  to  sing  his  favorite  song. 
He  could  not  keep  awake,  and  at  length  he  went  to  bed, 
telling  Nanette  to  iet  him  know  the  next  morning  as  soon 
as  Bathilde  was  visible. 

As  may  be  imagined,  Bathilde  was  well  satisfied  to  find 
Nanette  alone ;  Buvat's  presence  would  have  been  very 
irksome  to  her.  There  is  in  woman's  heart,  at  whatever 
age,  a  sympathy  for  the  griefs  of  love  which  is  never  found 
in  the  heart  of  a  man,  however  tender  and  compassionate 
that  heart  may  be.  In  Buvat's  presence  Bathilde  would 
not  have  dared  to  weep ;  in  presence  of  Nanette  she  burst 
into  tears.  Nanette  had  expected  to  see  her  young  mis- 
tress return  proud  and  joyous  at  the  triumph  which  she 
could  not  fail  to  obtain,  and  was  distressed  to  see  her  in 
this  state ;  but  to  all  her  questions  Bathilde  replied  that 
it  was  nothing,  absolutely  nothing.  Nanette  saw  that  it 
was  of  no  use  to  insist,  and  went  to  her  room,  which,  as 
we  have  said,  was  next  to  Bathilde's ;  but  she  could  not 
resist  the  impulse  of  curiosity,  and  looking  through  the 
key-hole,  she  saw  her  young  mistress  kneel  down  before 
her  little  crucifix,  and  then,  as  by  a  sudden  impulse,  run 
to  the  window,  open  it,  and  look  at  the  window  opposite. 
Nanette  doubted  no  longer ;  Bathilde's  grief  was  somehow 
connected  with  her  love,  and  it  was  caused  by  the  young 
man  who  lived  on  the  other  side  of  the  street.  She  felt 
relieved ;  women  pity  these  griefs  above  all  others,  but 
they  also  know  that  they  may  come  to  a  good  end.  Na- 
nette went  to  sleep  much  less  concerned  than  she  would 
have  been  had  she  not  discovered  the  cause  of  Bathilde's 
tears. 

Bathilde  slept  badly ;  the  first  griefs  and  the  first  joys 
of  love  have  the  same  results.  She  woke  therefore  with 
sunken  eyes  and  pale  cheeks.     She  would  have  dispensed 


COUNTERPLOTS.  327 

with  seeing  Buvat,  but  he  had  already  asked  for  her 
twice,  so  she  took  courage,  and  went  smiling  to  speak  to 
him.  Buvat,  however,  was  not  deceived;  he  could  not 
fail  to  notice  her  pale  cheeks,  and  Bathilde's  grief  was 
obvious  to  him.  She  of  course  denied  that  she  was  in  any 
other  than  her  usual  condition.  Buvat  pretended  to  be- 
lieve her,  but  went  to  the  office  very  uneasy,  and  anxious 
to  know  what  could  have  happened  to  her. 

When  he  was  gone  Nanette  approached  Bathilde,  who 
was  sitting  in  her  chair  with  her  head  leaning  on  her 
hand,  and  stood  an  instant  before  her,  contemplating  her 
with  an  almost  maternal  love  ;  then,  finding  that  Bathilde 
did  not  speak,  she  herself  broke  silence. 

"  Are  you  suffering  still,  Mademoiselle  1 "  said  she. 

"  Yes,  my  good  Nanette." 

"  If  you  would  open  the  window,  I  think  it  would  do 
you  good." 

"  Oh,  no,  Nanette,  thank  you ;  the  window  must  re- 
main closed." 

"  You  do  not  know,  perhaps,  Mademoiselle  —  " 

"Yes,  yes,  Nanette  !   I  know." 

"  That  the  young  man  opposite  returned  this  morning." 

"Well,  Nanette,"  said  Bathilde,  raising  her  head  and 
looking  at  her  with  severity,  "  what  is  that  to  me  1 " 

"  Pardon,  Mademoiselle,"  answered  Nanette,  "  but  I 
thought  —  " 

"What  did  you  think?" 

"  That  you  regretted  his  absence,  and  would  be  glad  of 
his  return." 

"You  were  wrong." 

"Pardon,  Mademoiselle,  but  he  appears  so  distinguished." 

"  Too  much  so,  Nanette  ;  a  great  deal  too  much  so  for 
poor  Bathilde." 

"  Too    distinguished   for   you,    Mademoiselle  ! "    cried 


328  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

Nanette,  "as  if  you  were  not  worth  all  the  noblemen  in 
the  world  !     Besides,  you  are  noble  ! " 

"  I  am  what  I  appear  to  be,  Nanette ;  that  is  to  say, 
a  poor  girl,  with  whose  peace,  honor,  and  love,  every 
nobleman  thinks  he  may  play  with  impunity.  You  see, 
Nanette,  that  this  window  must  be  closed.  I  must  not 
see  this  young  man  again." 

14  Mon  Dieu  /  Mademoiselle  Bathilde,  you  wish,  then,  to 
kill  this  poor  young  man  with  grief !  This  whole  morn- 
ing he  has  not  moved  from  his  window,  and  looks  so  sad 
that  it  is  enough  to  break  one's  heart." 

"What  does  his  looking  sad  matter  to  me?  What 
has  he  to  do  with  me?  I  do  not  know  him.  I  do  not 
even  know  his  name.  He  is  a  stranger,  who  has  come 
here  to  stay  for  a  few  days,  and  who  to-morrow  may  go 
away  again,  if  he  has  not  already  gone.  If  I  had 
thought  anything  of  him,  I  should  have  been  wrong, 
Nanette ;  and  instead  of  encouraging  me  in  a  love  which 
would  be  folly,  you  ought,  on  the  contrary, —  supposing 
that  it  existed,  —  to  show  me  the  absurdity  and  the 
danger  of  it."  s 

"Mon  Dieu!  Mademoiselle,  why  so?  You  must  love 
some  day,  and  you  may  as  well  love  a  handsome  young 
man  who  looks  like  a  king,  and  who  must  be  rich,  since 
he  does  not  do  anything." 

"Well,  Nanette,  what  would  you  say  if  this  young 
man  who  appears  to  you  so  simple,  so  loyal,  and  so  good, 
were  an  evil-minded  man,  a  traitor,  a  liar?" 

"Ah,  mon  Dieu!  Mademoiselle,  I  should  say  it  was 
impossible." 

"  If  I  told  you  that  this  young  man  who  lives  in  an 
attic,  and  who  shows  himself  at  the  window  dressed  so 
simply,  was  yesterday  at  Sceaux,  giving  his  arm  to  Ma* 
dame  du  Maine,  dressed  as  a  colonel?" 


COUNTERPLOTS.  329 

"I  should  say,  Mademoiselle,  that  at  last  God  is  just 
in  sending  you  some  one  worthy  of  you.  Holy  Virgin  ! 
a  colonel !  a  friend  of  the  Duchesse  du  Maine !  Oh, 
Mademoiselle  Bathilde,  you  will  be  a  countess,  I  tell  you ! 
and  it  is  not  too  much  for  you.  If  Providence  gave  to 
all  what  they  deserve,  you  would  be  a  duchess,  a  prin- 
cess, a  queen,  —  yes,  Queen  of  France  ;  Madame  de  Main- 
tenon  was  —  " 

"  I  would  not  be  like  her,  Nanette." 

"  I  do  not  say  like  her ;  besides,  it  is  not  the  king  you 
love,  Mademoiselle." 

"  I  do  not  love  any  one,  Nanette." 

"  I  am  too  polite  to  contradict  you,  Mademoiselle.  But 
never  mind,  you  are  ill ;  and  the  first  remedy  for  a  young 
person  who  is  ill  is  air  and  sun.  Look  at  the  poor  flowers  ; 
when  they  are  shut  up,  they  turn  pale.  Let  me  open  the 
window,  Mademoiselle." 

" Nanette,  I  forbid  you;  go  to  your  work  and  leave 
me." 

"Very  well,  Mademoiselle,  I  will  go,  since  you  drive 
me  away,"  said  Nanette,  lifting  the  corner  of  her  apron 
to  her  eye;  "but  if  I  were  in  that  young  man's  place, 
I  know  very  well  what  I  would  do." 

"  And  what  would  you  do  % " 

"  I  would  come  and  explain  myself ;  and  I  am  sure  that 
even  if  he  were  wrong  you  would  excuse  him." 

"  Nanette,"  said  Bathilde,  "  if  he  comes,  I  forbid  you  to 
admit  him  ;  do  you  hear  1 " 

"Very  well,  Mademoiselle;  he  shall  not  be  admitted, 
though  it  is  not  very  polite  to  turn  people  away  from 
the  door." 

"  Polite  or  not,  you  will  do  as  I  tell  you,"  said  Bathilde, 
to  whom  contradiction  gave  strength ;  "  and  now  go.  I 
wish  to  be  alone." 


330  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

Nanette  went  out. 

When  she  was  alone,  Bathilde  burst  into  tears,  for  her 
strength  was  but  pride.  She  believed  herself  the  most 
unfortunate  woman  in  the  world,  as  D'Harmental  thought 
himself  the  most  unfortunate  man. 

At  a  few  minutes  after  four  o'clock  Buvat  returned. 
Bathilde,  seeing  the  traces  of  uneasiness  on  his  good- 
natured  face,  did  all  she  could  to  tranquillize  him.  She 
smiled,  she  joked,  she  kept  him  company  at  table;  but 
all  was  in  vain.  After  dinner  he  proposed  to  Bathilde, 
as  an  amusement  whose  attraction  was  irresistible,  to  take 
a  walk  on  the  terrace.  Bathilde,  thinking  that  if  she 
refused,  Buvat  would  remain  with  her,  made  a  pretence 
of  accepting,  and  went  up  with  him  into  his  room  ;  but 
when  there,  she  remembered  that  she  must  write  a  letter 
of  thanks  to  the  Abbe  de  Chaulieu,  for  his  kindness  in 
presenting  her  to  Madame  du  Maine,  and  leaving  her 
guardian  with  Mirza,  she  went  down.  Shortly  after,  she 
heard  Mirza  scratching  at  the  door,  and  went  to  open  it. 
Mirza  entered  with  such  demonstrations  of  joy  that  Ba- 
thilde understood  that  something  extraordinary  must  have 
happened ;  and  on  looking  attentively,  she  saw  the  letter 
tied  to  Mirza's  collar.  As  this  was  the  second  she  had 
brought,  Bathilde  had  no  difficulty  in  guessing  whence 
it  came  and  who  was  the  author  of  the  letter.  The 
temptation  was  too  strong  for  Bathilde  even  to  try  to 
resist;  she  detached  the  paper  with  one  hand,  which 
trembled  as  she  remembered  that  it  probably  contained 
the  destiny  of  her  life,  while  with  the  other  she  caressed 
Mirza,  who,  standing  on  her  hind-legs,  appeared  delighted 
at  having  become  so  important  a  personage.  Bathilde 
opened  the  letter,  and  looked  at  it  twice  without  being 
able  to  decipher  a  single  line.  There  was  a  mist  before 
her  eyes. 


COUNTERPLOTS.  331 

The  letter,  while  it  said  a  great  deal,  did  not  say  quite 
enough.  It  protested  innocence  and  asked  for  pardon ; 
it  spoke  of  strange  circumstances  requiring  secrecy ;  but, 
above  all,  it  said  that  the  writer  was  madly  in  love.  The 
result  was  that,  without  completely  reassuring  her,  it  yet 
did  her  good. 

Bathilde,  however,  with  a  remnant  of  pride,  determined 
not  to  relent  till  the  next  day ;  since  Raoul  confessed 
himself  guilty,  he  should  be  punished.  She  did  not  re- 
member that  half  of  this  punishment  would  recoil  upon 
herself.  The  effect  of  the  letter,  incomplete  as  it  was, 
was  such  that  when  Buvat  returned  from  the  terrace  he 
thought  Bathilde  looked  infinitely  better  than  when  he 
had  left  her  an  hour  before.  Her  color  had  returned; 
her  cheerful  manner  was  more  genuine ;  and  her  speech 
was  no  longer  abrupt  and  nervous,  as  it  had  been  since 
the  day  before.  He  began,  therefore,  to  believe  what  she 
herself  had  told  him  in  the  morning,  that  her  agitation 
was  the  result  of  her  excited  state  the  day  before ;  and  at 
eight  o'clock  he  mounted  to  his  room,  leaving  Bathilde, 
who  complained  of  having  been  kept  up  the  night  before 
till  three  o'clock  in  the  morning,  to  retire  whenever  she 
liked. 

But  Bathilde,  notwithstanding  her  wakefulness  on  the 
preceding  night,  had  not  the  least  inclination  to  sleep; 
she  sat  up  for  a  long  time,  contented  and  happy,  for  she 
knew  that  her  neighbor's  window  was  open,  and  by  this 
persistence  she  understood  his  anxiety.  Two  or  three 
times  she  was  inclined  to  tranquillize  his  mind  by  going 
to  him  with  the  assurance  that  if  he  would  give  her  any 
explanation  whatever  his  pardon  would  be  freely  accorded ; 
but  it  seemed  to  her  that  thus  to  present  herself  to  Raoul 
was  more  than  a  young  girl  in  her  position  ought  to  do. 
She   therefore   postponed   the   matter   to   the   next   day 


332  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

That  night  she  dreamed  that  Raoul  was  at  her  feet,  and 
that  he  gave  her  such  good  reasons  for  his  conduct  that 
it  was  she,  in  her  turn,  who  asked  for  pardon. 

Thus  in  the  morning  she  awoke  convinced  that  she  had 
been  dreadfully  severe,  and  wondering  how  she  could 
have  had  the  courage  to  make  poor  Raoul  suffer  so  much. 
And  therefore  her  first  movement  was  to  run  to  the 
window  and  open  it ;  but  perceiving,  through  an  almost 
imperceptible  opening,  the  young  man  at  his  window, 
she  stopped  short.  Would  not  this  be  too  complete  an 
avowal  1  It  would  be  better  to  wait  for  Nanette ;  she 
would  open  the  window  quite  as  a  matter  of  course,  and, 
opened  thus  by  her,  it  would  afford  her  neighbor  no 
ground  to  plume   himself  on  his  share  in  the  matter. 

Nanette  arrived;  but  she  had  been  too  much  scolded 
the  day  before  about  this  window  to  risk  being  scolded  a 
second  time.  She  went  about  her  work  without  saying 
a  word  in  regard  to  the  admission  of  fresh  air ;  and  when 
she  went  out  she  had  not  touched  even  the  curtains. 
Bathilde  was  ready  to  cry. 

Buvat  came  down  as  usual  to  take  his  coffee  with 
Bathilde.  She  hoped  that  he  at  least  would  ask  why 
she  kept  herself  so  shut  up;  and  upon  that  she  inight 
ask  him  to  open  the  window.  Buvat,  however,  had 
received  a  new  order  for  the  classification  of  some  manu- 
scripts, and  was  so  preoccupied  that  he  finished  his 
coffee  and  left  the  room  without  once  remarking  that 
the  curtains  were  closed. 

For  the  first  time  Bathilde  felt  almost  angry  with  him, 
and  thought  he  must  have  paid  her  very  little  attention 
not  to  discover  that  she  must  be  half  stifled  in  such  a 
close  room.  What  was  she  to  do  1  Tell  Nanette  to  open 
the  window?  She  would  not  do  it.  Open  it  herself  she 
could  not.     She  must  then  wait;  but  till  when?    Till 


COUNTERPLOTS.  333 

the  next  day,  or  the  day  after  perhaps,  and  what  would 
Eaoul  think?  Would  he  not  become  impatient  at  this 
exaggerated  severity  ?  Suppose  he  should  again  leave  for 
a  fortnight,  for  a  month,  for  six  weeks,  for  ever?  Ba- 
thilde  would  die ;  she  could  not  live  without  Raoul. 

Two  hours  passed  thus ;  Bathilde  tried  everything,  her 
embroidery,  her  harpsichord,  her  drawing,  but  she  could 
do  nothing.  Nanette  came  in ;  a  slight  hope  returned  to 
her.  But  Nanette  wished  only  to  ask  leave  to  go  out. 
Bathilde  signed  to  her  that  she  could  go.  She  was  going 
to  the  Faubourg  St.  Antoinej  she  would  be  away,  then, 
at  least  two  hours.  What  was  Bathilde  to  do  during 
these  two  hours?  It  would  have  been  so  delightful  to 
pass  them  at  the  window. 

Bathilde  sat  down  and  drew  out  the  letter ;  she  knew 
it  by.  heart,  but  yet  she  read  it  again.  How  had  she 
refrained  from  surrendering  at  once  on  receiving  such  a 
letter  as  that?  It  was  so  tender,  so  passionate,  so  evi- 
dently from  the  heart.  Oh,  if  she  could  receive  a  second 
letter !  This  was  an  idea ;  she  looked  at  Mirza,  the  grace- 
ful little  messenger  ;  she  took  her  in  her  arms,  and  then, 
trembling  as  if  she  were  about  to  commit  a  crime,  she 
went  to  open  the  outer  door.  A  young  man  was  stand- 
ing before  this  door  reaching  out  his  hand  toward  the 
bell.  Bathilde  uttered  a  cry  of  joy,  and  the  young  man 
a  cry  of  love.     That  young  man  was  Raoul. 


334:  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 


CHAPTEK    XXX. 


THE    SEVENTH    HEAVEN. 


Bathilde  made  some  steps  backward,  for  she  had  nearly 
fallen  into  Raoul's  arms.  Eaoul,  having  shut  the  door, 
followed  Bathilde  into  the  room.  Their  two  names,  ex- 
changed in  a  double  cry,  escaped  their  lips.  Their  hands 
met  in  an  electric  clasp,  and  all  was  forgotten.  These 
two,  who  had  so  much  to  say,  stood  with  their  hearts 
beating  almost  against  each  other,  and  said  nothing. 
Their  souls  had  passed  into  their  eyes,  and  spoke  with 
the  grand  voice  of  silence,  which,  in  love,  says  so  many 
things,  and  which  has  this  advantage  over  the  other  voice, 
—  that  it  never  lies. 

Thus  they  remained  for  some  minutes.  At  length 
Bathilde  felt  the  tears  coming  into  her  eyes ;  she  sighed, 
and  throwing  back  her  head  as  if  to  recover  her  breath, 
she  said,  u  Oh,  mon  Dieu  !  mon  Dieu  I  how  I  have 
suffered ! " 

"  And  have  not  I  % "  said  D'Harmental,  —  "  I,  who 
have  appeared  to  you  guilty,  and  am  yet  innocent ! " 

"  Innocent ! "  cried  Bathilde,  to  whom,  by  a  natural 
reaction,  all  her  doubts  returned. 

"  Yes,  innocent,"  replied  the  chevalier. 

And  then  he  told  Bathilde  all  that  he  had  a  right  to 
tell  her,  —  that  is  to  say,  his  duel  with  Lafare ;  how  he 
had,  after  that,  hidden  in  the  Rue  du  Temps-Perdu  j  how 
he  had  seen  Bathilde,  and  loved  her;  his  astonishment 


THE  SEVENTH  HEAVEN.  335 

at  discovering  successively  in  her  the  elegant  woman,  the 
skilful  painter,  the  accomplished  musician ;  his  joy  when 
he  "began  to  think  that  she  was  not  wholly  indifferent  to 
him.  Then  he  told  her  how  he  had  received,  as  colonel 
of  carabineers,  the  order  to  go  to  Bretagne,  and  on  his 
return  had  been  obliged  to  render  an  account  of  his  mis- 
sion to  the  Duchesse  du  Maine  before  returning  to  Paris. 
He  had  gone  directly  to  Sceaux,  expecting  only  to  leave 
his  despatches  in  passing,  when  he  had  found  himself 
in  the  midst  of  the  fete,  in  which  he  had  been  obliged 
unwillingly  to  take  a  part.  This  recital  was  concluded  by 
expressions  of  regret,  and  such  protestations  of  fidelity 
\ind  love  that  Bathilde  almost  forgot  the  beginning  of  his 
discourse  in  listening  to  the  end. 

It  was  now  her  turn.  She  also  had  a  long  history  to 
tell  D'Harmental;  but  in  it  there  were  no  reserves  or 
obscurities.  It  was  the  history,  not  of  an  epoch  in  her 
life,  but  of  all  her  life.  With  a  certain  pride  in  proving 
to  her  lover  that  she  was  worthy  of  him,  she  showed  her- 
self as  a  child  caressed  by  her  father  and  mother,  then 
an  orphan  and  abandoned ;  then  appeared  Buvat,  with  his 
plain  face  and  his  sublime  heart,  and  she  spoke  of  all 
his  attentions,  all  his  kindness,  all  his  love  for  his  poor 
pupil.  She  passed  in  review  her  careless  childhood  and 
her  pensive  youth  ;  then  she  arrived  at  the  time  when  she 
first  saw  D'Harmental,  and  when  she  reached  that  point 
she  smiled,  blushing,  for  she  was  very  sure  that  there  was 
nothing  further  which  she  needed  to  tell  him. 

But  she  was  mistaken.  That  which  Bathilde  thought 
she  had  no  need  to  recount  to  the  chevalier  was  precisely 
what  the  chevalier  insisted  on  hearing  from  her  own  lips, 
without  the  omission  of  a  single  detail.  In  vain  the  poor 
child  paused,  blushed,  lowered  her  eyes  j  she  was  obliged 
to  open  her  virginal  heart,    virile  D'Harmental,  on  his 


336  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

knees  before  her,  listened  to  her  smallest  words.  And 
when  she  was  through,  she  must  begin  again ;  for  D'Har- 
mental  could  not  weary  of  hearing,  —  so  happy  was  he  in 
finding  himself  loved  by  Bathilde,  and  so  proud  of  his 
love  for  her. 

Two  hours  slipped  by  like  two  seconds,  and  they  were 
still  there  when  some  one  rang  at  the  door.  Bathilde 
looked  at  the  clock  which  was  in  the  corner  of  the  room ; 
it  was  six  minutes  past  four.  The  knocking  could  mean 
but  one  thing,  —  Buvat's  return.  Bathilde's  first  move- 
ment was  one  of  fear ;  but  Eaoul  reassured  her,  smiling, 
for  he  had  the  pretext  with  which  the  Abbe  Brigaud  had 
furnished  him.  The  two  lovers  exchanged  a  last  grasp 
of  the  hand,  then  Bathilde  went  to  open  the  door  to  her 
guardian,  who,  as  usual,  kissed  her  on  the  forehead,  then, 
on  entering  the  room,  perceived  D'Harmental.  Buvat  was 
astounded  ;  he  had  never  before  found  any  man  with  his 
pupil.  He  fixed  on  D'Harmental  his  astonished  eyes 
and  waited ;  he  fancied  he  had  seen  the  young  man 
before.  D'Harmental  advanced  toward  him  with  that 
ease  of  which  people  of  a  certain  class  have  not  even 
an  idea. 

"  It  is  to  Monsieur  Buvat,"  he  said,  "  that  I  have  the 
honor  of  speaking  "?  " 

"To  myself,  Monsieur,"  said  Buvat,  starting  at  the 
sound  of  the  voice,  which  he  thought  he  recognized ; 
"  but  the  honor  is  on  my  side." 

"  You  know  the  Abbe  Brigaud  ? "  asked  D'Harmental. 

"  Yes,  perfectly,  Monsieur  ;  the  —  the  —  the  —  of 
Madame  Denis,  is  he  not  ? " 

"  Yes,"  replied  D'Harmental,  smiling ;  "  the  confessor 
of  Madame  Denis." 

"  Yes,  I  know  him,  —  a  clever  man,  Monsieur,  a  clever 
man." 


THE   SEVENTH   HEAVEN.  337 

"  Did  you  not  once  apply  to  him  to  get  some  copying 
to  do  J " 

"  Yes,  Monsieur,  for  I  am  a  copyist,  at  your  service." 

"Well,"  said  D'Harmental,  "this  dear  Abbe  Brigaud, 
who  is  my  guardian,  —  that  you  may  know,  Monsieur,  to 
whom  you  are  speaking,  —  has  found  an  excellent  cus- 
tomer for  you." 

"  Ah,  really  1     Take  a  seat,  Monsieur." 

"  Thank  you." 

"  And  who  is  this  customer,  if  you  please?" 

"  The  Prince  de  Listhnay,  Rue  du  Bac,  110." 

"  A  prince,  Monsieur !  a  prince  %  " 

"  Yes ;  a  Spaniard,  who  is  in  correspondence  with  the 
1  Mercure  de  Madrid/  and  sends  all  the  news  from  Paris." 

"  Why,  it  is  a  godsend,  that,  Monsieur  !  " 

"  A  godsend  indeed,  as  you  say.  It  will  give  you  some 
trouble,  however,  for  all  the  despatches  are  in  Spanish." 

"  Diable!"  said  Bu vat. 

"  Do  you  know  Spanish  1 "  asked  D'Harmental. 

"  No,  Monsieur ;  I  do  not  think  so,  at  least." 

"  Never  mind,"  continued  the  chevalier,  smiling  at 
Buvat's  uncertainty  ;  "  one  need  not  know  a  language  to 
make  copies  in  that  language." 

"  I  could  copy  Chinese,  Monsieur  ;  caligraphy,  like  draw- 
ing, is  an  imitative  art." 

"And  I  know  that  in  this  respect,  Monsieur  Buvat," 
replied  D'Harmental,  "you  are  a  great  artist." 

"  Monsieur,"  said  Buvat,  "  you  embarrass  me.  May 
I  ask,  without  indiscretion,  at  what  time  I  shall  find  his 
Highness  1 " 

"What  Highness?" 

"  His  Highness  the  Prince  de  —  I  don't  remember 
the  name  you  mentioned,  Monsieur  —  which  you  did  me 
the  honor  to  mention,"  added  Buvat,  correcting  himself. 

22 


338  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

"  Ah,  the  Prince  de  Listhnay." 

44  That  is  it." 

"  He  is  not  Highness,  my  dear  Monsieur  Buvat." 

"  Pardon,  I  thought  all  princes  —  " 

"  Oh,  there  are  princes  and  princes.  This  is  a  prince 
of  the  third  order,  and  he  will  be  quite  satisfied  if  you 
call  him  Monseigneur." 

"  You  think  so  % " 

"  I  am  sure  of  it." 

"  And  when  shall  I  find  him,  if  you  please  ?  " 

"  Why,  in  an  hour  from  now,  if  you  wish,  —  after  your 
dinner,  for  example,  from  five  to  half-past  five.  You  re- 
member the  address  1 " 

"Yes;  Rue  du  Bac,  110.  Very  good,  Monsieur;  very 
good.     I  will  be  there." 

"  Now,"  said  D'Harmental,  "  au  revoir  !  And  you, 
Mademoiselle,"  he  added,  turning  to  Bathilde,  "  receive 
my  thanks  for  your  kindness  in  keeping  me  company 
while  I  waited  for  Monsieur  Buvat,  a  kindness  for  which, 
I  assure  you,  I  shall  be  eternally  grateful." 

And  D'Harmental  took  his  leave,  while  Bathilde  re- 
mained astonished  at  the  ease  and  assurance  which  his 
experience  in  similar  situations  had  given  him. 

"  This  young  man  is  really  very  amiable/'  said  Buvat. 

"Yes,  very,"  said  Bathilde,  mechanically. 

"  But  it  is  an  extraordinary  thing ;  I  think  I  have  seen 
him  before." 

"  It  is  possible,"  said  Bathilde. 

"  And  his  voice ;  I  am  sure  I  know  his  voice." 

Bathilde  started ;  for  she  remembered  the  evening  when 
Buvat  had  returned  frightened  from  the  adventure  in  the 
Rue  des  Bons-Enfans,  and  D'Harmental  had  not  spoken 
of  that  adventure.  At  this  moment  Nanette  entered,  an- 
nouncing dinner.     Buvat,  who  was  eager  for  his  interview 


THE  SEVENTH  HEAVEN.  339 

with  the  Prince  de  Listhnay,  went  first  into  the  dining' 
room. 

"Well,  Mademoiselle,"  said  Nanette,  softly,  "the  hand- 
some young  man  came,  then,  after  alH  " 

"Yes,  Nanette,  yes,"  answered  Bathilde,  raising  her 
eyes  to  heaven  with  an  expression  of  infinite  gratitude ; 
"  and  I  am  very  happy." 

She  passed  on  into  the  dining-room,  where  Buvat,  who 
had  put  his  hat  on  his  cane  and  his  cane  in  a  corner,  was 
waiting  for  her,  and  slapping  his  thighs  with  his  hands,  as 
was  his  custom  in  his  moments  of  extreme  satisfaction. 

As  to  D'Harmental,  he  was  no  less  happy  than  Bathilde. 
He  was  loved,  —  he  was  sure  of  it ;  Bathilde  had  told 
him  so,  with  the  same  pleasure  she  had  felt  on  hearing 
him  make  the  same  declaration.  He  was  loved,  not  by 
a  poor  orphan,  not  by  a  little  grisette,  but  by  a  young 
daughter  of  the  nobility,  whose  father  and  mother  had 
occupied  an  honorable  position  at  court.  There  were, 
then,  no  obstacles  to  their  union  ;  if  there  remained  some 
difference  of  rank  between  them,  it  was  so  slight  that 
Bathilde  needed  to  ascend  but  a  single  step,  and  D'Har- 
mental  to  descend  a  single  step,  and  they  would  meet 
midway.  It  is  true  that  D'Harmental  forgot  one  thing,  — 
the  secret  which,  because  it  was  not  his  own,  he  thought 
himself  obliged  to  withhold  from  Bathilde ;  that  conspir- 
acy which  hollowed  under  his  feet  an  abyss  which  might 
engulf  him  at  any  moment.  But  D'Harmental  was  not 
thinking  of  such  things.  He  was  sure  that  he  was  loved, 
and  the  sun  of  love  gave  to  his  sad  and  desolate  life  a 
rose-colored  horizon. 

As  to-  Bathilde,  she  was  troubled  by  no  doubts  about 
the  future.  It  is  true  no  word  of  marriage  had  been 
spoken  between  her  and  D'Harmental;  but  their  hearts 
had  been  manifest  to  each  other  in  all  their  purity,  and 


340  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

no  written  contract  of  marriage  could  be  worth  so  much 
as  a  look  from  Raoul's  eyes,  and  the  pressure  of  his  hands. 
And  so  when,  after  dinner,  Buvat,  congratulating  himself 
on  the  prize  that  had  fallen  to  him,  took  his  hat  and  cane 
to  go  to  the  Prince  de  Listhnay's,  she  first  fell  on  her 
knees  to  thank  God,  and  then,  without  hesitation,  went 
to  open  the  window  so  long  closed.  D'Harmental  was 
still  at  his.  They  had  very  soon  settled  their  plans,  and 
taken  Nanette  into  their  confidence.  Every  day  when 
Buvat  was  gone,  D'Harmental  was  to  come  and  stay  two 
hours  with  Bathilde.  The  rest  of  the  time  would  be 
passed  at  the  windows,  or,  if  by  chance  these  must 
be  closed,  they  would  write  to  each  other.  Toward  seven 
o'clock  they  saw  Buvat  turning  the  corner  of  the  Rue 
Montmartre  ;  he  carried  a  roll  of  paper  in  one  hand,  and 
his  cane  in  the  other,  and  by  his  important  air,  it  wras 
easy  to  see  that  he  had  spoken  to  the  prince  himself. 
D'Harmental  closed  his  window. 

Bathilde  had  feared  that  this  story  of  the  Prince  de 
Listhnay  was  only  an  invention  to  explain  D'HarmentaPs 
presence.  Having  had  no  chance  to  ask  for  an  explana- 
tion, and  not  daring  to  dissuade  Buvat  from  going  to  the 
Rue  du  Bac,  she  had  witnessed  his  departure  with  a  cer- 
tain degree  of  remorse.  She  loved  Buvat  with  all  the 
gratitude  of  her  heart.  He  was  to  her  an  object  of  sacred 
veneration,  to  be  forever  shielded  from  ridicule.  She 
therefore  awaited  his  return  with  anxiety,  that  she  might 
infer  from  the  expression  of  his  face  what  had  happened. 
Buvat's  face  was  glowing. 

"Well,  little  father]"  said  Bathilde,  with  lingering 
apprehension. 

"  "Well,"  replied  Buvat,  "  I  have  seen  his  Highness." 

"But,  pardon,  little  father,"  she  said,  smiling;  "you 
know  that  Monsieur  Raoul  said  the  Prince  de  Listhnay 


THE  SEVENTH   HEAVEN.  341 

has  no  right  to  that  title,  since  he  is  only  a  prince  of  the 
third  order." 

"  I  guarantee  him  of  the  first,"  said  Buvat.  "  Sabre  de 
boisl  a  man  of  five  feet  ten,  who  throws  his  money  about, 
and  pays  for  copies  at  fifteen  francs  the  page,  and  has 
given  twenty-five  louis  in  advance.  A  prince  of  the  third 
order  !    I  should   think  so  !  " 

Then  another  fear  came  into  Bathilde's  mind,  —  that 
this  pretended  customer,  whom  Raoul  had  found  for  Bu- 
vat, was  only  a  pretext  to  induce  him  to  accept  money, 
which  he  might  think  he  had  earned.  This  fear  had 
in  it  something  humiliating  and  oppressive.  Bathilde 
turned  her  eyes  toward  D'Harmental's  window,  but  she 
saw  D'Harmental  looking  at  her  with  so  much  love  that 
she  thought  of  nothing  but  of  looking  at  him  in  return, 
which  she  did  with  such  eagerness  that  Buvat  came  for- 
ward to  see  what  was  attracting  her  attention.  But 
D'Harmental,  seeing  him,  let  fall  the  curtain,  and  the 
good  man's   curiosity  remained   unsatisfied. 

"  So,  then,  little  father,"  said  Bathilde,  wishing  to  turn 
off  his  attention,   "  you  are  content  1  " 

"  Quite  ;  but  I  must  tell  you  one  thing." 

"  What  is  it  1  " 

"  You  remember  that  I  told  you  that  I  thought  I  recog- 
nized the  face  and  voice  of  this  young  man,  but  could  not 
tell  you  where  I  had  seen  and  heard  them  1 " 

"  Yes,  you  told  me  so." 

"  Well,  it  suddenly  struck  me  to-day,  as  I  was  crossing 
the  Rue  des  Bons-Enfans,  that  it  was  the  same  young 
man  whom  I  saw  on  that  terrible  night  of  which  I  cannot 
think  without  trembling." 

"  Really,  little  father'  1  "  said  Bathilde,  trembling. 
"  Oh,  what  folly  !  " 

"  Yes,  what  folly  !  for  I  was  on  the  point  of  returning. 


342  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

I  thought  this  Prince  de  Listhnay  might  be  some  brigand 
chief,  and  that  they  were  going  to  entice  me  into  a 
cavern.  But  as  I  never  carry  any  money,  I  concluded 
that  my  fears  were  exaggerated,  and  fortunately  I  over' 
came  them  by  force  of  reason." 

"  And  now,  little  father,  you  are  satisfied,  are  you  not," 
replied  Bathilde,  "  that  this  poor  young  man,  who  came 
here  this  afternoon  in  behalf  of  the  Abbe  Brigaud,  has  no 
connection  with  him  to  whom  you  spoke  in  the  Rue  des 
Bons-Enfans?" 

"Certainly.  A  captain  of  thieves  could  have  no  con- 
nection with  his  Highness." 

"  Oh,  that  would  be  impossible  !  "  said  Bathilde. 

"  Yes,  that  would  be  impossible.  But  I  am  forgetting. 
My  child,  you  must  excuse  me  if  I  do  not  stay  with  you 
this  evening.  I  promised  his  Highness  that  I  would  go 
to  work  at  once,  and  I  must  keep  my  promise.  Good- 
night, my  dear  child." 

"Good-night,  little  father." 

Buvat  went  up  to  his  room,  where  he  immediately 
applied  himself  to  the  task  for  which  the  Prince  de 
Listhnay  had  so  liberally  paid   him. 

As  to  the  lovers,  they  resumed  the  conversation  inter- 
rupted by  Bu vat's  return  j  and  God  only  knows  at  what 
hour  the  two  windows  were  closed. 


FE*NELON'S  SUCCESSOR.  343    J 


CHAPTER    XXXI. 

fenelon's  successor. 

Thanks  to  the  arrangements  agreed  upon  between  the 
two  lovers,  which  afforded  to  their  love  so  long  restrained 
all  the  expansion  possible,  three  or  four  days  slipped  by 
like  moments,  during  which  they  were  the  happiest  beings 
in  the  world. 

But  the  earth,  which  seemed  to  them  to  be  at  a  stand- 
still, continued  its  revolutions,  and  the  events  which  were 
to  waken  them,  at  the  moment  when  they  least  expected 
interruption,  were   silently  preparing. 

The  Due  de  Richelieu  had  kept  his  promise.  The 
Marechal  de  Villeroy,  who  had  intended  to  remain  a  week 
away  from  the  Tuileries,  was  recalled  on  the  fourth  day 
by  a  letter  from  his  wife,  who  wrote  to  him  that  his 
presence  near  the  king  was  more  than  ever  necessary, 
the  measles  having  declared  itself  at  Paris,  and  having 
already  attacked  several  persons  in  the  Palais  Royal. 
Monsieur  de  Villeroy  came  back  directly ;  for,  it  will  be 
remembered,  all  those  successive  deaths  which  three  or 
four  years  before  had  afflicted  the  kingdom  had  been 
attributed  to  the  measles,  and  the  marshal  would  not  lose 
this  opportunity  of  parading  his  vigilance.  It  was  his 
privilege,  as  governor  of  the  king,  never  to  leave  him 
except  by  an  order  from  himself,  and  to  remain  with 
him,  whoever  entered,  even  though  it  should  be  the 
regent.  It  was  especially  with  regard  to  the  regent  that 
the  marshal  affected  such  extraordinary  precaution ;  and 


344  LE  CHEVALIER   D'HARMENTAL. 

as  this  suited  the  hatred  of  Madame  du  Maine  and  her 
party,  they  praised  Monsieur  de  Yilleroy  highly,  and  spread 
abroad  a  report  that  he  had  found  on  the  chimney-piece 
of  Louis  XV.  some  poisoned  bonbons  which  had  been 
placed  there  by  some  person  unknown. 

The  result  of  all  this  was  an  increase  of  calumny  against 
the  Due  d'Orleans,  and  of  importance  on  the  part  of  the 
marshal,  who  persuaded  the  young  king  that  he  owed  him 
his  life.  Through  the  force  of  that  belief  he  acquired 
great  influence  over  the  poor  royal  child,  who,  accustomed 
to  fear  everything,  had  confidence  in  no  one  but  Monsieur 
de  Villeroy  and  Monsieur  de  Frejus. 

Monsieur  de  Yilleroy,  then,  was  the  man  who  was 
needed  to  deliver  the  missives ;•"  but  such  was  the  irreso- 
lution of  his  character  that  he  accepted  the  charge  only 
after  considerable  hesitation.  It  was  finally  arranged  that 
on  the  following  Monday  —  a  day  when  by  reason  of  his 
Sunday  suppers  the  regent  rarely  visited  the  king  —  the 
two  letters  of  Philip  V.  should  be  sent  to  him,  and  then 
Monsieur  de  Villeroy  should  profit  by  his  solitude  with 
his  pupil  to  make  him  sign  the  order  for  the  convocation 
of  the  States-General,  and  that  it  should  be  made  public 
the  next  day  before  the  hour  of  the  regent's  visit,  so  that 
there  should  be  no  way  of  drawing  back. 

While  all  these  things  were  plotting  against  him,  the 
regent  was  leading  his  ordinary  life  in  the  midst  of  his 
work,  his  studies,  his  pleasures,  and  his  family  bickerings. 
As  we  have  said,  three  of  his  daughters  gave  him  serious 
trouble.  Madame  de  Berri,  whom  he  loved  the  most, 
because  he  had  saved  her  when  the  most  celebrated  doc- 
tors had  given  her  up,  throwing  off  all  restraint,  lived 
publicly  with  Riom,  whom,  when  reproached  by  her 
father,  she  threatened  to  marry.  A  strange  threat,  but 
which,  if  carried  out,   would  have  caused  at  that   time, 


FENELON'S  SUCCESSOR.  345 

owing  to  the  regard  still  cherished  for  the  supremacy  of 
rank,  far  more  scandal  than  the  amours  which  at  any 
other  time  such  a  marriage  would  have  sanctified. 

Mademoiselle  de  Chartres  persisted  in  her  resolution  to 
become  a  nun,  although  she  still,  during  her  novitiate, 
continued  to  enjoy  all  the  pleasures  she  could  manage  to 
introduce  into  the  cloister.  She  had  in  her  cell  her  guns 
and  pistols,  and  a  magnificent  assortment  of  fireworks, 
which  enabled  her  to  give  a  pyrotechnic  entertainment 
to  her  young  friends  every  evening.  But  she  would  not 
leave  the  convent,  where  her  father  went  every  Wednes- 
day to  visit  her. 

The  third  person  of  the  family  who  gave  him  uneasiness 
was  Mademoiselle  de  Valois,  whom  he  suspected  of  being 
Richelieu's  mistress,  but  without  ever  being  able  to  obtain 
eertain  proof,  although  he  had  put  his  police  on  the  watch, 
and  had  himself  more  than  once  paid  her  visits  at  hours 
when  he  thought  it  most  probable  he  should  meet  the 
duke.  These  suspicions  were  increased  by  her  refusal  to 
marry  the  Prince  de  Dombes,  —  an  excellent  match,  en- 
riched as  he  was  by  the  spoils  of  La  Grande  Mademoiselle. 
The  regent  had  seized  a  new  opportunity  of  assuring  him- 
self whether  this  refusal  was  due  to  her  antipathy  to  the 
young  prince  or  to  her  love  for  the  duke,  by  welcoming 
the  overtures  which  Pleneuf,  his  ambassador  at  Turin,  had 
made  for  a  marriage  between  the  beautiful  Charlotte  Aglae 
and  the  Prince  de  Piemont.  Mademoiselle  de  Valois  re- 
belled again,  but  this  time  in  vain ;  the  regent,  departing 
from  his  usual  good-natured  indulgence,  this  time  insisted, 
and  the  poor  lovers  lost  all  hope,  when  an  unexpected 
event  broke  off  the  negotiations.  Madame,  the  mother  of 
the  regent,  with  her  German  frankness,  had  written  to  the 
Queen  of  Sicily,  one  of  her  most  constant  correspondents, 
that  she  loved  her  too  much  not  to  warn  her  that  the 


346  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

princess  who  was  destined  for  the  young  prince  had  a 
lover,  and  that  that  lover  was  the  Due  de  Richelieu.  It 
may  be  supposed  that  this  declaration  put  an  end  to  the 
scheme. 

The  regent  was  at  first  exceedingly  angry  at  this  result 
of  his  mother's  mania  for  writing  letters;  but  he  was  not 
a  man  to  persist  long  in  an  angry  mood,  and  presently  he 
was  able  to  laugh  at  this  latest  epistolary  escapade  of  Ma- 
dame. And  besides,  at  this  time  his  attention  was  called 
to  another  very  important  matter  ;  namely,  Dubois's  claim 
to  be  made  an  archbishop. 

We  have  seen  that,  on  Dubois's  return  from  London, 
the  affair  had  first  been  broached  under  the  form  of  a 
joke,  and  how  the  regent  had  received  the  recommenda- 
tion of  the  English  king.  But  Dubois  was  not  a  man  to 
be  beaten  by  a  first  refusal.  Cambrai  was  vacant  by  the 
death  of  the  Cardinal  la  Tremouille,  and  was  one  of  the 
richest  archbishoprics  in  the  Church.  A  hundred  and 
fifty  thousand  francs  a  year  were  attached  to  it ;  and  it 
was  difficult  to  say  whether  Dubois  was  most  tempted 
by  the  title  of  successor  to  Fenelon,  or  by  the  rich 
benefice   attached  to  it. 

Dubois,  on  the  first  opportunity,  brought  up  the  sub- 
ject of  the  archbishopric.  The  regent  again  tried  to  turn 
it  off  with  a  joke,  but  Dubois  became  more  positive  and 
more  pressing.  The  regent  was  unable  to  endure  weari- 
ness, and  Dubois  began  to  weary  him  by  his  persistence ; 
therefore,  to  dispose  of  him  once  for  all,  he  challenged 
Dubois  to  find  a  prelate  who  would  consecrate  him. 

"  Is  that  all  ? "  cried  Dubois,  joyously  j  "  I  have  him 
within  easy  reach." 

"  Impossible ! "  said  the  regent,  who  did  not  believe 
the  sycophancy  of  man  could  go  to  such  lengths  as 
that. 


FENELON'S  SUCCESSOR.  347 

"  You  will  see,"  said  Dubois ;  and  he  ran  out.  In  five 
minutes  he  returned. 

"  Well  1 "  asked  the  regent. 

"  Well,"  answered  Dubois,  "  I  have  secured  our  man." 

"And  who  is  the  scoundrel  who  is  willing  to  consecrate 
a  fellow  like  you  1 " 

"  Your  first  almoner,  Monseigneur." 

"The  Bishop  of  Nantes?" 

"  Neither  more  nor  less." 

"  Tressan ! " 

"  Himself." 

"  Impossible ! " 

u  Here  he  is." 

And  at  this  moment  the  door  was  opened,  and  the 
Bishop  of  Nantes  was  announced. 

"  Come,  Monsieur,  come ! "  cried  Dubois,  running  to 
him  ;  "  his  royal  Highness  honors  us  both  in  naming  me 
Archbishop  of  Cambrai,  and  in  choosing  you  to  consecrate 
me." 

"Monsieur  de  Nantes,"  asked  the  regent,  "is  it  true 
that  you  consent  to  make  the  abbe  an  archbishop?" 

"  Your  Highness's  wishes  are  commands  for  me,  Mon- 
seigneur." 

"  But  you  know  that  he  is  neither  sub-deacon,  deacon, 
nor  priest." 

"  Never  mind,  Monseigneur,"  cried  Dubois,  "  here  is 
Monsieur  de  Nantes,  who  will  tell  you  that  all  these 
orders  may  be  conferred  in  a  day." 

"  But  there  is  no  example  of  such  a  thing." 

"  Yes,  —  Saint  Ambroise." 

"  Then,  my  dear  Abbe,"  said  the  regent,  laughing,  "  if 
you  have  all  the  fathers  of  the  Church  with  you,  I  have 
nothing  more  to  say,  and  I  abandon  you  to  Monsieur  de 
Tressan." 


348  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

"  I  will  give  him  back  to  you  with  the  cross  and  mitre, 
Monseignenr." 

"  But  you  must  have  the  grade  of  licentiate,"  continued 
the  regent,  who  began  to  be  amused  at  the  discussion. 

"  I  have  a  promise  from  the  University  of  Orleans." 

"  But  you  must  have  attestations." 

"  Is  there  not  Besons  1 " 

"  A  certificate  of  good  life  and  manners." 

"  I  will  have  one  signed  by  Noailles." 

"  No ;  there  I  defy  you,  Abbe." 

"  Then  your  Highness  will  give  me  one.  The  signature 
of  the  regent  of  France  must  have  as  much  weight  at 
Koine  as  that  of  a  wicked  cardinal." 

"  Dubois,"  said  the  regent,  "  a  little  more  respect,  if 
you  please,   for  the  princes  of  the  Church." 

"You  are  right,  Monseigneur.  There  is  no  saying 
what   one    may   become." 

"  You  a  cardinal ! "  cried  the  regent,  laughing. 

"  Since  your  Highness  will  not  give  me  the  blue  rib- 
bon," said  Dubois,  "  I  must  content  myself  with  the  red, 
until  I  can  do  better." 

"Better!     Cardinal!" 

"  Stay  !  why  should  I  not  some  day  be  Pope  1 " 

"  True,  Borgia  was  a  pope." 

"  May  God  give  us  both  a  long  life,  Monseigneur,  and 
you  will  see  that  and  many  other  things." 

" Pardieu!"  said  the  regent,  "you  know  that  I  laugh 
at  death." 

"  Alas  !  too  much." 

"  Well,  you  will  make  a  poltroon  of  me  by  curiosity." 

"  There  would  be  no  harm  in  that ;  and  to  begin, 
Monseigneur  would  do  well  to  discontinue  his  nocturnal 
excursions." 

"Why?" 


FfiNELON'S  SUCCESSOK.  349 

■  In  the  first  place,  because  they  endanger  his  life." 

"What  does  that  matter?" 

"  Then  for  another  reason." 

"What?" 

"Because,"  said  Dubois,  assuming  a  hypocritical  air, 
"they  are  a  subject  of  scandal  for  the  Church." 

"Go  to  the  devil!" 

"  You  see,  Monsieur,  "  said  Dubois,  turning  to  Tressan, 
"in  the  midst  of  what  libertines  and  hardened  sinners 
I  am  obliged  to  live.  I  hope  that  your  Eminence  will 
consider  my  position,  and  will  not  be  too  severe  upon 
me." 

"  We  will  do  our  best,  Monseigneur,"  said  Tressan. 

"  And  when  1 "  asked  Dubois,  who  was  unwilling  to  lose 
an  hour. 

"  As  soon  as  you  are  ready." 

"  I  ask  for  three  days." 

"  Very  well ;  on  the  fourth  I  will  be  at  your  orders." 

"  To-day  is  Saturday ;  on  Wednesday,  then." 

"  On  Wednesday,"  answered  Tressan. 

"  Only  I  warn  you  beforehand,  Abbe,"  said  the  regent, 
"  that  one  person  of  some  importance  will  be  absent  at 
your  consecration." 

"  And  who  will  dare  to  do  me  that  injury  1 " 

"  I  shall." 

"  You,  Monseigneur !  You  will  be  there,  and  in  your 
official  gallery." 

"  I  say  that  I  will  not." 

"  I  bet  a  thousand  louis." 

"  And  I  give  you  my  word  of  honor." 

"  I  double  my  bet." 

"Insolent!" 

"Till  Wednesday,  Monsieur  de  Tressan;  till  my  con- 
secration,   Monseigneur."      And    Dubois    left   the   room 


350  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

highly  delighted,  and  spread  about  everywhere  the  news 
of  his  nomination. 

But  Dubois  was  wrong  on  one  point;  namely,  the 
adhesion  of  the  Cardinal  de  Noailles.  No  menace  or 
promise  could  draw  from  him  the  attestation  to  good  life 
and  morals  which  Dubois  nattered  himself  he  should 
obtain  at  his  hands.  It  is  true  that  he  was  the  only 
one  who  dared  to  make  this  holy  and  noble  opposition  to 
the  scandal  with  which  the  Church  was  menaced.  The 
University  of  Orleans  gave  the  licenses,  and  everything 
was  ready  on  the  appointed  day.  Dubois  left  at  five  ' 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  in  a  hunting-dress,  for  Pontoise, 
where  he  found  Monsieur  de  Tressan,  who,  according  to 
his  promise,  bestowed  on  him  the  sub-deaconship,  the 
deaconship,  and  the  priesthood.  At  twelve  all  was  fin- 
ished ;  and  at  four,  after  having  attended  the  regent's 
council,  which  was  held  at  the  old  Louvre  in  consequence 
of  the  measles  having,  as  we  have  said,  attacked  the  Tuile- 
ries,  Dubois  returned  home  in  the  dress  of  an  archbishop. 

The  first  person  whom  he  saw  in  his  room  was  La 
Fillon.  In  her  double  capacity,  as  agent  of  his  secret 
police  and  of  his  public  loves,  she  had  admittance  to  his 
room  at  all  hours ;  and  in  spite  of  the  solemnity  of  the 
day,  as  she  had  said  that  she  had  business  of  importance 
to  communicate,  they  had  not  dared  to  refuse  her. 

"  Ah  ! "  cried  Dubois,  on  perceiving  his  old  friend,  "  a 
lucky  meeting." 

" Pardieuf  my  dear  gossip,"  answered  La  Fillon,  "if 
you  are  ungrateful  enough  to  forget  your  old  friends,  I 
am  not  stupid  enough  to  forget  mine,  particularly  when 
they  rise  in  the  world." 

"  Ah !  tell  me,"  said  Dubois,  beginning  to  pull  off  his 
sacerdotal  ornaments,  "do  you  count  on  continuing  to  call 
me  your  gossip  now  that  I  am  an  archbishop  1 " 


351 

"  More  than  ever.  And  I  count  on  it  so  strongly  that 
the  first  time  the  regent  enters  my  house  I  shall  ask  him 
for  an  abbey,  that  we  may  still  be  on  an  equality  one 
with  the  other." 

"  He  comes  to  your  house,  then  1     The  libertine  ! " 

"Alas  !  no  longer  for  me,  my  dear  gossip.  Ah,  the  good 
time  is  passed !  But  I  hope  that,  thanks  to  you,  it  will 
return,   and  that  the  house  will  feel  your  elevation." 

"  Oh,  my  poor  gossip ! "  said  Dubois,  stooping  down  in 
order  that  La  Fillon  might  unclasp  his  frock,  "  you  see 
that  now  things  are  much  changed,  and  that  I  can  no 
longer  visit  you  as  I  used  to." 

"  You  are  proud.     Philippe  comes  there." 

"  Philippe  is  only  regent  of  France,  and  I  am  an  arch- 
bishop. Do  you  understand  1  I  want  a  mistress  in  her 
own  house,  where  I  can  go  without  scandal,  —  like  Ma- 
dame de  Tencin,  for  example." 

"  Yes,  who  will  deceive  you  for  Richelieu." 

"And  how  do  you  know  that  she  will  not  deceive 
Richelieu  for  rue?" 

"  Oh,  very  good  !  And  will  she  do  double  tasks,  per- 
chance 1  Will  she  perform  both  the  services  of  love  and 
those  of  the  police?" 

"Perhaps.  But  speaking. of  police,"  answered  Dubois, 
continuing  to  undress,  "do  you  know  that  yours  have 
slept  infernally  during  three  or  four  months,  and  that  if 
this  continues  I  shall  be  obliged  to  withdraw  your 
stipend." 

"  Ah,  coward  ! "  cried  La  Fillon  ;  "  this  is  the  way  you 
treat  your  old  friends.  I  came  to  make  a  revelation; 
well,  you  shall  not  have  it." 

"  A  revelation  !  and  what  about  1 " 

"  Pshaw  !  take  away  my  pay,  —  scoundrel  that  you  are  ! " 

"  Is  it  a  matter  relating  to  Spain  1 "  asked  the  arch- 


352  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

bishop,  frowning,  and  feeling  instinctively  that  the  danger 
came  from  that  quarter. 

"It  relates  to  nothing  at  all.  Good-evening."  And 
La  Fillon  made  toward  the  door. 

"  Come  here,"  said  Dubois,  stepping  toward  his  desk  ; 
and  the  two  old  friends,  who  understood  each  other  so 
well,   looked  at  each   other  and  laughed. 

"  Come,  come,"  said  La  Fillon,  "  I  see  that  all  is  not 
lost,  and  that  there  is  yet  some  good  in  you.  Come,  open 
this  little  desk  and  show  me  what  it  contains,  and  I  will 
open  my  mouth  and  show  you  what  I  have  in  my  heart." 

Dubois  took  out  a  rouleau  of  a  hundred  louis,  and 
showed  it  to  La  Fillon. 

"  How  much  is  it  1 "  said  she.  "  Come,  tell  the  truth  ; 
however,  I  shall  count  after  you,  to  be  sure." 

"  Two  thousand  four  hundred  francs ;  that  is  a  pretty 
penny,  it  seems  to  me." 

"  Yes,  for  an  abbe,  but  not  for  an  archbishop." 

"  Do  you  not  know  to  what  an  extent  the  finances  are 
involved  1 " 

"  Well,  what  does  that  matter,  you  humbug,  when  Law 
is  going  to  make  millions  for  us  1 " 

"Would  you  like  in  exchange  ten  thousand  francs  in 
Mississippi  bonds  1 " 

"  Thanks,  my  dear,  I  prefer  the  hundred  louis.  Give 
them  to  me ;  I  am  a  good  woman,  and  another  day  you 
will  be  more  generous." 

"  Well,  what  have  you  to  tell  me  1     Come  !  " 

"  First  promise  me  one  thing." 

"What  is  it V 

"  That  as  the  matter  concerns  an  old  friend  of  mine,  he 
shall  come  to  no  harm." 

"  But  if  your  old  friend  is  a  beggar  who  deserves  to  be 
hanged,  why  the  devil  should  you  cheat  him  of  his  due?" 


FJiJNELON'S  SUCCESSOR.  353 

"I  have  my  own  reasons." 

"  Go  along  ;  I  promise  nothing." 

"  Well,  good-evening,  then.  Here  are  the  hundred 
louis." 

"  Ah,  you  are  getting  scrupulous  all  at  once  ! " 

"  Not  at  all ;  but  I  am  under  obligations  to  this  man. 
He  started  me  in  the  world." 

"  He  may  boast  of  having  done  a  good  thing  for  society 
that  day." 

"  Bather,  my  friend ;  and  he  shall  never  have  cause  to 
repent  it,  for  I  will  not  speak  a  word  to-day  unless  his 
life  is  safe." 

"Well,  safe  it  shall  be,  I  promise  you.  Are  you 
content  ? " 

"  By  what  do  you  promise  it  to  me  1 " 

"  On  the  faith  of  an  honest  man." 

"  Ah,  you  are  going  to  deceive  me." 

"  Do  you  know  that  you  are  very  tiresome  1 " 

"  Oh  !  I  am  very  tiresome.     Well,  good-by." 

"Gossip,  I  will  have  you  arrested." 

"What  do  I  care?" 

"  You  shall  be  sent  to  prison." 

"  That  is  a  good  joke." 

"  I  will  leave  you  there  to  rot." 

"Till  you  rot  yourself;  that  will  not  be  a  long  time." 

"  Well,  what  do  you  want  1 " 

"My  captain's  life." 

"You  shall  have  it." 

"  On  what  faith  1 " 

"  On  the  faith  of  an  archbishop." 

"I  want  a  better." 

"On  the  faith  of  an  abbe\" 

"Better  still." 

"  On  the  faith  of  Dubois." 
23 


354  LE  CHEVALTER  D'HARMENTAL. 

"  That  will  do.  First,  I  must  tell  you  that  my  captain 
is  the  most  threadbare  captain  in  the   kingdom." 

"  Diable  /  there  is  some  competition,  however." 

"  True  ;  but  he  takes  the  prize." 

"  Continue." 

"Well,  you  must  know  that  lately  my  captain  has 
become  as  rich  as  Croesus." 

"  He  must  have  robbed  some  farmer-general." 

"  Incapable.  Killed,  maybe,  but  robbed  1  —  what  do 
you   take  him  for  I  " 

"Well,  then,  where  do  you  think  he  gets  that  money  1" 

"  Do  you  know  the  different  coinages  1 " 

"  Yes." 

"Where  does  this  come  from,  then?" 

"  Ah,  ah,  Spanish  doubloons  !  " 

"  And  without  alloy,  with  the  effigy  of  King  Charles  II. 
Doubloons  which  are  worth  forty-eight  francs  if  they  are 
worth  a  penny,  and  which  run  from  his  pockets  like  a 
stream,  poor  dear  fellow  !  " 

u  And  when  did  your  captain  begin  to  sweat  gold  like 
that  1 " 

"  The  day  after  the  regent  was  nearly  carried  off  in  the 
Hue  des  Bons-Enfans.  Do  you  understand  the  apologue, 
gossip  1 " 

"  Yes  ;  and  why  have  you  not  told  me  before  to-day  1 " 

"  Because  his  pockets  were  full  then.  They  are  now 
nearly  empty ;  and  it  is  a  good  time  to  find  out  where  he 
!       goes  to  fill  them." 

"  And  you  wished  to  give  him  time  to  empty  them  1 " 

"Well,  all  the  world  must  live." 

"  And  so  they  shall ;  even  your  captain.  But  you 
V  understand  that  I  must  know  what  he  does  1 " 

"  Day  by  day." 

"  And  which  of  your  girls  does  he  love  ?  " 


F^NELON'S  SUCCESSOR.  355 

"  All,  when  he  has  money." 

"  And  when  he  has  none  1 " 

"  La  Norniande  ;  she  is  his  true  friend." 

"  I  know  her ;  she  is  as  sharp  as  a  needle." 

"Yes;  but  you  must  not  reckon  on  her." 

"  Why  not  1 " 

"  She  loves  him,  the  little  fool." 

"  Ah,  he  is  a  lucky  fellow  !  " 

"  And  he  merits  it.  He  has  the  heart  of  a  prince ;  he 
is  not  like  you,  old  miser." 

"  Oh,  you  know  that  sometimes  I  am  more  lavish  than 
the  prodigal  son,  and  it  depends  on  you  to  give  me  occa- 
sion to  be  so." 

"  I  will  do  my  best." 

"  Then  day  by  day  I  shall  know  what  your  captain 
does?" 

"  You  shall." 

"  On  what  faith  1 " 

"  On  the  faith  of  an  honest  woman." 

"  Something  better." 

"  On  the  faith  of  Fillon." 

"  That  will  do." 

"  Adieu,  Monseigneur  the  Archbishop." 

"  Adieu,  gossip." 

La  Fillon  went  toward  the  door,  but  as  she  was  going 
out  an  usher  entered. 

"  Monseigneur,"  said  he,  "  here  is  a  man  who  wants  to 
speak  to  your  Eminence." 

"And  who  is  he,  idiot?" 

"  An  employee  of  the  royal  library,  who,  in  his  spare 
time,  makes  copies." 

"  And  what  does  he  want  1 " 

"  He  says  that  he  has  an  important  revelation  to  make 
to  your  Eminence." 


356  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

"  Oh  !  it  is  some  poor  fellow  begging." 

"  No,  Monseigneur  •  he  says  that  it  is  a  political  affair." 

"  Diable!  about  what?" 

"About  Spain." 

"  Send  him  in ;  and  you,  gossip,  go  into  this  closet." 

"What  for?" 

"  Suppose  my  writer  and  your  captain  should  know 
each  other?" 

"Ah,  that  would  be  droll." 

"Come,  get  in  quickly." 

La  Fillon  entered  the  closet  which  Dubois  showed  her. 
An  instant  afterward  the  usher  opened  the  door  and  an- 
nounced Monsieur  Jean  Buvat. 

We  must  now  show  how  this  important  personage  came 
to  be  received  in  private  audience  by  the  Archbishop  of 
Cambrai. 


THE  PBINCE  DE  LISTHNAY'S  ACCOMPLICE.        357 


CHAPTER    XXXII. 

THE   PRINCE   DE   LISTHNAY'S   ACCOMPLICE. 

We  left  Buvat  going  up  to  his  own  room,  with  his  papers 
in  his  hand,  to  fulfil  his  promise  to  the  Prince  de  Listh- 
nay ;  and  this  promise  was  so  scrupulously  kept  that  by 
seven  o'clock  the  next  evening  the  copy  was  finished  and 
taken  to  the  Rue  du  Bac.  He  then  received  from  the 
same  august  hands  some  more  work,  which  he  returned 
with  the  same  punctuality ;  so  that  the  Prince  de  Listh- 
nay,  feeling  confidence  in  a  man  who  had  given  such 
proofs  of  exactitude,  took  from  his  desk  a  package  of 
papers  larger  than  the  first  two,  and  in  order  not  to  dis- 
turb Buvat  every  day,  and  also,  doubtless,  that  he  might 
not  be  disturbed  himself,  instructed  him  to  return  them 
all  at  the  same  time,  —  which  would  involve  an  interval  of 
three  or  four  days  before  Buvat  should  make  his  next  visit. 
Buvat  was  delighted  with  this  mark  of  confidence,  and 
on  his  return  set  himself  gayly  to  his  work ;  and  although 
he  found  that  he  did  not  understand  a  word  of  Spanish, 
he  could  now  read  it  easily,  so  that  his  work,  being  purely 
mechanical,  left  him  free  to  sing  his  little  song,  while  at 
the  same  time  he  continued  copying  his  memorial.  It 
was  therefore  almost  with  a  sense  of  disappointment  that 
on  completing  his  copy  of  the  first  paper,  he  came  to  one 
that  was  written  wholly  in  French.  He  had  become  ac- 
customed to  the  foreign  language  by  his  five  days'  work, 
and  to  him  every  interruption  of  habit  was  annoying. 
But  Buvat,  faithful  to  duty,  made  ready  to  go  on  scrupu- 


358  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

lously  with  his  work;  and  although  the  paper  was  not 
numbered,  and  had  the  appearance  of  having  been  slipped 
in  by  mistake,  he  none  the  less  resolved  to  copy  it  in  its 
turn,  in  accordance  with  the  maxim,  "  Quod  abundat  nou 
vitiat."  He  therefore  renewed  his  pen  by  a  light  stroke 
with  his  penknife,  and  began  copying  the  following 
words  :  — 

"  Confidential. 

"  For  his  Excellency  Monsieur  Alberoni  in  person. 

"  Nothing  is  more  important  than  to  make  sure  of  the 
places  near  the  Pyrenees,  and  of  the  noblemen  who  reside  in 
those  cantons." 

"  In  those  cantons,"  repeated  Buvat ;  then,  taking  a 
hair  from  his  pen,   he  continued  :  — 

"  To  gain  or  master  the  garrison  of  Bayonne." 

"  What  is  that  1 "  muttered  Buvat.  "  Is  not  Bayonne 
a  French  town  1  Let  us  see,  —  let  us  see ; "  and  he 
continued :  — 

"  The  Marquis  de  P is  governor  of  D .  The  inten- 
tions of  that  nobleman  are  known.  When  it  is  decided,  it 
will  be  necessary  for  him  to  triple  his  expenditure,  in  order  to 
attract  the  aristocracy  ;  he  ought  to  scatter  rewards. 

"  In  Normandy,  Carentan  is  an  important  post.  Pursue 
the  same  course  with  the  governor  of  that  town  as  with  the 

Marquis  of  P ;  go  further:   promise  his  officers  suitable 

rewards. 

"  Do  the  same  in  all  the  provinces." 

"  Eh  !  what !  "  said  Buvat,  re-reading  what  he  had  just 
written  ;  "  what  does  this  mean  1  It  seems  to  me  that  it 
would  be  prudent  to  read  it  all  before  going  further." 
And  he  read  as  follows :  — 

"  To  supply  this  expenditure  we  must  reckon  on  at  least 
three  hundred  thousand  francs  the  first  month,  and  after- 
ward a  hundred  thousand  per  month,  paid  punctually." 


THE  PRINCE  DE  LISTHNAY'S  ACCOMPLICE.        359 

"  Paid  punctually  ! "  murmured  Buvat,  breaking  off. 
"  It  is  evidently  not  by  France  that  these  payments  are 
to  be  made,  since  France  is  so  poor  that  she  has  not  paid 
me  my  nine  hundred  francs'  salary  for  five  years.  Let  us 
see,  —  let  us  see ; "  and  he  resumed  :  — 

"That  expenditure,  which  will  cease  when  peace  is  estab- 
lished, will  enable  his  Catholic  Majesty  to  act  with  certainty 
in  case  of  war. 

"  Spain  will  be  only  an  auxiliary.  The  army  of  Philip  V. 
is  in  France." 

"What!  what!  what!"  said  Buvat;  "and  I  did  not 
even  know  that  it  had  crossed  the  frontier." 

"  A  body  of  about  ten  thousand  Spaniards  is  more  than 
sufficient,  with  the  presence  of  the  king.  But  we  must  be 
able  to  count  on  being  able  to  seduce  at  least  half  of  the  Due 
d'Orleans'  army.  This  is  most  important,  and  cannot  be  done 
without  money.  A  present  of  one  hundred  thousand  francs 
is  necessary  for  each  battalion  and  squadron.  Twenty  bat- 
talions would  be  two  millions ;  with  that  sum  vone  might  form 
a  trustworthy  army,  and  destroy  that  of  the  enemy. 

"It  is  almost  certain  that  the  subjects  most  devoted  to  the 
King  of  Spain  will  not  be  employed  in  the  army  which  will 
march  against  him.  Let  them  disperse  themselves  through 
the  provinces;  there  they  will  act  usefully.  To  restore  to 
them  their  standing,  it  may  be  necessary  for  his  Catholic 
Majesty  to  send  orders  in  blank  for  his  minister  in  Paris  to  fill. 

"In  consequence  of  the  multiplicity  of  orders  to  be  given, 
it  will  be  convenient  for  the  ambassador  to  have  authority  to 
sign  for  the  King  of  Spain. 

"  It  would  be  well,  moreover,  if  his  Catholic  Majesty  were 
to  sign  his  orders  as  a  French  prince;  the  title  is  his  own. 

"  Prepare  funds  for  an  army  of  thirty  thousand  men,  whom 
his  Majesty  will  find  brave,  skilful,  and  disciplined. 

"  This  money  should  arrive  in  France  by  the  last  of  May 
or  the  first  of  June,  and  be  distributed  directly  in  the  capitals 
of  provinces,  such  as  Nantes,  Bayonne,  etc. 


360  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

"  Do  not  allow  the  French  ambassador  to  leave  Spain.  His 
presence  will  answer  for  the  safety  of  those  who  declare  them- 
selves." 1 

"  Sabre  de  bois  !  "  cried  Buvat,  rubbing  his  eyes  ;  "  but 
this  is  a  conspiracy, — a  conspiracy  against  the  person  of 
the  regent,  and  against  the  safety  of  the  kingdom.  Oh, 
oh!" 

Buvat  fell  into  profound  meditation. 

Indeed,  the  position  was  critical.  Buvat  mixed  up  in  a 
conspiracy !  Buvat  charged  with  a  State  secret !  Buvat 
holding  in  his  hands,  perhaps,  the  fate  of  nations!  Less 
than  this  was  needed  to  throw  the  worthy  man  into  a 
state  of  strange  perplexity. 

Thus  seconds,  minutes,  hours,  elapsed  before  Buvat, 
who  sat  with  his  head  leaning  against  the  back  of  his 
chair,  and  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  ceiling,  made  the  least 
movement.  From  time  to  time,  however,  a  deep  breath 
— like  an  expression  of  astonishment — escaped  his  breast. 
Ten  o'clock,  eleven,  midnight,  sounded.  Buvat  thought 
that  sleep  would  bring  him  aid,  and  he  determined  to  go 
to  bed.  It  is  needless  to  say  that  his  copying  came  to 
an  end  when  he  saw  that  the  original  was  assuming  an 
illegal  character. 

Buvat  could  not  sleep ;  the  poor  fellow  tossed  from 
side  to  side,  but  whenever  he  closed  his  eyes  he  saw  the 
horrible  plan  of  the  conspiracy  written  upon  the  wall  in 
letters  of  fire.  Once  or  twice,  overcome  by  fatigue,  he 
fell  asleep ;  but  he  had  no  sooner  lost  consciousness  than 
he  dreamed,  —  the  first  time  that  he  was  arrested  by  the 
watch  as  an  accomplice  in  the  conspiracy;  the  second, 
that  he  was  stabbed  by  the  conspirators  themselves.  The 
first  time  Buvat  awoke  trembling ;  the  second  time  bathed 

1  This  document  is  copied  literally  from  the  original  in  the  archives 
of  foreign  affairs. 


THE  PEINCE  DE  LISTHNAY'S  ACCOMPLICE.        3G1 

in  perspiration.  These  two  impressions  had  been  so  ter- 
rible, that  he  lighted  his  candle,  and  determined  to  wait 
for  day,  without  another  attempt  to  sleep. 

The  day  came,  bat  far  from  dispelling  the  phantoms  of 
the  night,  it  only  gave  them  a  more  terrific  reality.  At 
the  least  noise  which  he  heard  in  the  street  Buvat 
trembled.  Some  one  knocked  at  the  street-door,  and 
Buvat  thought  he  should  faint.  Nanette  opened  the  door 
of  his  chamber,  and  he  uttered  a  cry.  Nanette  ran  to 
him,  and  asked  what  was  the  matter;  but  he  answered 
only  by  shaking  his  head,  and  saying  with  a  sigh,  "  Ah, 
my  poor  Nanette,  we  live  in  very  sad  times." 

He  stopped  directly,  fearing  he  had  said  too  much. 
He  was  too  preoccupied  to  go  down  to  breakfast  with 
Bathilde.  Besides,  he  feared  lest  the  young  girl  should 
perceive  his  uneasiness,  and  ask  the  cause  ;  and  as  he  did 
not  know  how  to  keep  anything  from  her,  he  would  have 
told  her  all,  and  she  would  then  have  become  his  accom- 
plice. He  had  his  coffee  sent  up  to  him,  under  pretext 
of  having  an  overwhelming  amount  of  work  to  do,  and 
that  he  was  going  to  work  during  breakfast.  As  Ba- 
thilde's  love-affair  found  advantage  in  this  absence,  she 
made  no  objection  to  it. 

A  few  minutes  before  ten  Buvat  left  for  his  office. 
If  his  fears  had  been  strong  in  his  own  house,  it  may 
be  easily  understood  that  when  he  was  in  the  street  they 
changed  into  terrors.  At  every  crossing,  at  the  end  of 
every  court,  behind  every  angle,  he  thought  that  he  saw 
agents  of  the  police  lying  in  wait,  ready  to  take  him  by  the 
collar.  At  the  corner  of  the  Place  des  Victoires  a  musketeer 
appeared,  coming  from  the  Eue  Pagevin,  and  Buvat  gave 
such  a  start  on  seeing  him  that  he  almost  fell  under  the 
wheels  of  a  carriage.  At  last,  after  many  alarms,  he 
reached  the  library,  bowed  almost  to  the  ground  before 


362  LE  CHEVALIER   D'HARMENTAL. 

the  sentinel,  darted  up  the  stairs,  gained  his  office,  and 
falling  exhausted  on  his  seat,  he  shut  up  in  his  drawer 
all  the  papers  of  the  Prince  de  Listlmay,  which  he  had 
brought  with  him  for  fear  the  police  should  search  his 
house  during  his  absence.  Finding  himself  in  safety,  he 
heaved  a  sigh,  which  would  not  have  failed  to  betray  him 
to  his  colleagues  as  being  a  prey  to  the  greatest  agitation, 
if  he  had  not,  as  usual,  arrived  before  them. 

Buvat  had  the  idea  that  no  personal  preoccupation, 
whether  grave  or  gay,  ought  to  disturb  a  clerk  in  the 
execution  of  his  duty.  Therefore  he  applied  himself  to 
his  work,  apparently  as  if  nothing  had  happened,  but  really 
in  a  state  of  moral  perturbation  impossible  to  describe. 

This  work  consisted,  as  usual,  in  classifying  and  label- 
ling books.  A  fire  having  broken  out  a  few  days  pre- 
viously in  one  of  the  halls  of  the  library,  three  or  four 
thousand  volumes  had  been  carried  out  of  reach  of  the 
flames,  and  thrown  down  promiscuously  on  the  floor,  and 
were  now  to  be  restored  to  their  proper  places.  As  it  was 
a  particularly  tedious  business,  Buvat  had  been  selected 
for  it,  and  had  hitherto  acquitted  himself  with  an  in- 
telligence and  assiduity  which  had  gained  for  him  the 
commendations  of  his  superiors,  and  the  raillery  of  his 
colleagues. 

In  spite  of  the  urgency  of  the  work,  Buvat  rested  some 
minutes  to  recover  himself;  but  as  soon  as  he  saw  the 
door  open,  and  one  of  his  colleagues  enter  and  go  to  his 
place,  he  rose  instinctively,  took  a  pen,  dipped  it  in  the 
ink,  took  a  handful  of  parchment  labels,  went  toward 
the  remaining  books,  took  the  first  which  came  to  hand, 
and  continued  his  classification,  muttering  meanwhile, 
according  to  his  custom  while  thus  employed  :  — 

"'The  Breviary  of  Lovers,'  printed  at  Liege  in  1712  ; 
no  printer's  name.     Ah,  mon  Dieu  I  what  amusement  can 


THE  PRINCE  DE  LISTHNAY'S  ACCOMPLICE.        363 

Christians  possibly  find  in  reading  such  books  ?  It  would 
be  better  if  they  were  all  burned  in  the  Place  de  Greve  by 
the  hand  of  the  public  hangman !  —  prrrouu  !  why  in  the 
devil  do  I  think  of  him  1  Who,  then,  is  this  Prince  de 
Listhnay,  who  has  made  me  copy  such  things,  and  who  is  the 
young  man  who,  under  pretext  of  doing  me  a  service,  intro- 
duced me  to  such  a  scoundrel  1  Come,  come  !  this  is  not 
the  place  to  think  about  that.  How  pleasant  it  is,  writing 
on  parchment !  the  pen  glides  as  if  over  silk.  What  is 
the  next  %  *  Angelique,  or  Secret  Pleasures/  with  illustra- 
tions ;  and  what  illustrations  they  are  !  '  London/  Such 
books  should  be  forbidden  to  pass  the  frontier.  A  few 
days  from  now  there  will  be  fine  doings  on  the  frontier. 
'  Make  sure  of  the  places  near  the  Pyrenees,  and  of  the 
noblemen  who  reside  in  those  cantons.'  It  may  be  hoped 
that  places  will  not  allow  themselves  to  be  taken  like  that. 
What  the  devil !  there  are  still  faithful  subjects  in  France. 
Ah,  cursed  prince  !  May  you  be  taken,  hanged,  quartered  ! 
But  if  on  being  arrested,  he  should  denounce  me  !  Sabre 
de  bois  !  it  is  possible." 

"Well,  Monsieur  Buvat,"  said  the  head  clerk,  "and 
what  have  you  been  doing  for  the  last  five  minutes,  with 
your  arms  crossed,  and  your  eyes  rolling  as  if  you  were 
frightened  1 " 

"  Nothing,  Monsieur  Ducoudray,  nothing.  I  was  plan- 
ning a  new  mode  of  classification." 

"  A  new  mode  of  classification  !  Are  you  turned  re- 
former? Do  you  wish  to  make  a  revolution,  Monsieur 
Buvat  1 " 

"  I !  a  revolution  !  "  cried  Buvat,  with  terror.  "  A  rev- 
olution, Monsieur  !  —  never,  oh,  never  !  Thank  God,  my 
devotion  to  Monseigneur  le  Regent  is  known,  —  a  disin- 
terested devotion,  since  he  has  not  paid  me  for  five  years, 
as  you  know ;  and  if  ever  I  should  have  the  misfortune 


364  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

to  be  accused  of  such  a  thing,  I  hope,  Monsieur,  that  I 
should  find  witnesses,  friends,  who  would  answer  for  me." 

"^ry  good,  very  good.  Meantime,  Monsieur  Buvat, 
go  on  with  your  work.  You  know  that  it  is  urgent.  All 
those  books  are  in  our  way,  and  by  four  o'clock  to-morrow 
they  must  be  on  their  shelves." 

"  They  shall  be,  Monsieur,  they  shall  be,  though  I  spend 
the  night  at  it." 

"  Good  fellow,  Pere  Buvat,"  said  an  employee  who  had 
been  there  half  an  hour,  and  had  not  yet  finished  sharp- 
ening his  pen.  "  He  proposes  to  spend  the  night  here, 
knowing  there  is  a  rule  forbidding  it  for  fear  of  fire.  But 
no  matter;  it  sounds  well,  and  gives  the  appearance  of 
zeal,  and  that  pleases  the  chiefs.  Oh,  you  are  a  cunning 
fellow,  Pere  Buvat!" 

Buvat  was  too  much  accustomed  to  that  style  of  address 
to  be  disturbed  by  it.  After  placing  where  they  belonged 
the  first  two  volumes  he  had  labelled,  he  took  up  the 
third,  and  continued  :  — 

"  '  Conspiracy  of  Monsieur  de  Cinq- Mars '  —  diable  ! 
diable  /  I  have  heard  of  that.  He  was  a  gallant  gentle- 
man, who  was  in  correspondence  with  Spain,  —  that  cursed 
Spain.  What  business  has  it  to  mix  itself  up  eternally 
with  our  affairs  1  It  is  true  that  this  time  it  is  said  that 
Spain  '  will  only  be  an  auxiliary  ; '  but  an  auxiliary  who 
takes  possession  of  our  towns,  and  who  debauches  our 
soldiers,  appears  to  me  very  much  like  an  enemy.  \  Con- 
spiracy of  Monsieur  de  Cinq-Mars,  followed  by  a  History 
of  his  Death,  and  that  of  Monsieur  de  Thou,  condemned 
for  not  revealing  it.  By  an  Eye-Witness.'  For  not  re- 
vealing !  It  is  true,  no  doubt,  for  the  law  is  positive. 
Whoever  does  not  reveal  is  an  accomplice,  —  myself,  for 
instance.  I  am  the  accomplice  of  the  Prince  de  Listhnay ; 
and  if  they  cut  off  his  head,  they' will  cut  off  mine  too. 


THE  PRINCE  DE  LISTHNAY'S  ACCOMPLICE.        365 

No,  they  will  only  hang  me  ;  I  am  not  noble.  Hanged  ! 
it  is  impossible ;  they  would  never  go  to  such  extremi- 
ties in  my  case.  Besides,  I  have  made  up  my  mind ;  I 
will  declare  all.  But  then  I  shall  be  an  informer ;  never  ! 
But  then  I  shall  be  hanged  —  oh,  oh !  " 

"What  in  the  devil  is  the  matter  with  you  to-day, 
Pere  Buvat  1 "  said  the  colleague  of  the  worthy  man,  who 
had  finished  sharpening  his  pen.  "  You  are  spoiling  your 
cravat.  Are  you  trying  to  strangle  yourself?  Well,  don't 
stand  on  ceremony.  Take  off  your  coat  meanwhile.  Go 
ahead,   Pere   Buvat;   go  ahead." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  gentlemen,"  said  Buvat ;  "  I  did 
it  mechanically.     I  did  not  mean  to  offend  you." 

"  That 's  all  right." 

Buvat,  after  readjusting  his  cravat,  and  placing  on  its 
shelf  "  The  Conspiracy  of  Monsieur  de  Cinq-Mars,"  reached 
out  his  trembling  hand  for  another  volume. 

" '  Art  of  Plucking  the  Fowl  without  Making  it  cry 
out.'  This  no  doubt  is  a  cook-book.  If  I  had  time  I 
would  copy  some  good  receipt  and  give  it  to  Nanette  for 
the  improvement  of  our  Sunday  dinners ;  for  now  that 
money  is  coming  in  again,  —  yes,  it  is  coming  in ;  but, 
my  God,  from  what  a  source !  Oh,  I  will  return  his 
money  to  him,  and  his  papers  too,  to  the  last  line.  Yes, 
but  he  will  not  restore  mine  to  me,  —  more  than  forty 
pages  of  my  writing !  and  the  Cardinal  de  Richelieu 
needed  only  five  lines  of  a  man's  writing  to  hang  him  ! 
There  is  enough  there  to  hang  me  a  hundred  times. 
And  then  there  is  no  way  of  denying  that  writing,  that 
superb  writing  :  it  is  well  known ;  it  is  obviously  mine. 
But  come,  this  is  not  what  is  before  me.  *  Art  of  Pluck- 
ing the  Fowl  without  Making  it  cry  out.  Paris,  1709: 
Comon,  Rue  du  Bac,  No.  110.'  Come,  here  I  am,  writing 
the  prince's  address  !     Decidedly,  T  am  losing  my  head  ; 


366  LE  CHEVALIER   D'HARMENTAL 

I  am  going  mad.  But  if  I  should  go  and  declare  all, 
while  refusing  to  name  him  who  gave  me  the  papers,  — 
yes,  but  they  will  force  me  to  tell  everything  ;  they  have 
means  to  do  that.  But  I  am  wandering;  come,  Buvat, 
my  friend,  attend  to  business." 

"  *  Conspiracy  of  the  Chevalier  Louis  de  Rohan.'  Oh, 
I  come  to  nothing  but  conspiracies !  That  is  the  poor 
fellow  who  was  executed  in  1674,  four  years  before  I  was 
born.  My  mother  saw  him  die.  Poor  fellow  !  —  she  has 
often  told  me  about  it.  And  they  hanged  at  the  same 
time  a  tall,  slim  man  dressed  all  in  black.  What  was  his 
name  1  Ah,  good,  I  have  the  book  here.  Ah,  yes,  Van 
den  Enden.  Here  it  is  :  '  Copy  of  a  Plan  of  Government 
found  among  the  Papers  of  Monsieur  de  Eohan,  and  en- 
tirely written  by  Van  den  Enden.'  Ah,  mon  Dieu  !  yes  ; 
that  is  just  my  case.  He  was  hanged  for  having  copied 
a  plan.  Oh,  I  shall  die  !  '  Proces-verbal  of  the  Torture 
of  Francois- Affinius  Van  den  Enden.'  If  they  read  one 
day,  at  the  end  of  the  conspiracy  of  the  Prince  de  Listhnay, 
*  Proces-verbal  of  the  Torture  of  Jean  Buvat.'     Ouf ! " 

"  In  the  year  one  thousand  six  hundred  and  seventy-four, 
etc.,  we,  Claude  Bazin,  Chevalier  de  Bezons,  and  Auguste- 
Robert  de  Pomereu,  assisted  by  Louis  Le  Mazier,  counsellor 
and  secretary  to  the  king,  etc.,  have  proceeded  to  the  chateau 
of  the  Bastille,  and  being  in  one  of  the  towers  of  that  chateau, 
have  before  us  Francois- Amnius  Van  den  Enden,  condemned 
to  death,  and  to  be  subjected  to  the  question  ordinary  and 
extraordinary ;  and  after  he  has  taken  oath  to  tell  the  truth, 
we  have  shown  him  that  he  has  not  told  all  that  he  knows 
concerning  the  conspiracy  and  the  rebellious  plans  of  the 
Sieurs  Rohan  and  Latreaumont.  He  replies  that  he  has  told 
everything  he  knows;  and  that  being  a  stranger  to  the  con- 
spiracy, having  only  copied  a  few  papers  relating  to  it,  he  can 
say  nothing  further.  Upon  that  we  have  applied  to  him  the 
brodequins." 


THE  PEINCE  DE  LISTHNAY'S  ACCOMPLICE.        367 

"  Monsieur,"  said  Buvat  to  the  chief  clerk,  "  may  I  ask 
you,  who  are  so  well  informed,  what  the  instrument  of 
torture  is  which  is  called  brodequin  ? " 

"  My  dear  Monsieur  Buvat,"  replied  the  clerk,  visibly 
pleased  by  the  compliment  the  good  man  had  addressed 
to  him,  "  I  can  tell  you  all  about  it,  for  last  year  I  saw 
Duchauffour  subjected  to   the  torture." 

"  Then,  Monsieur,  I  am  curious  to  know  —  " 

"  Brodequins,  my  dear  Buvat,"  replied  Monsieur  Du- 
coudray,  with  an  air  of  importance,  "  are  nothing  else  but 
four  boards,  something  like  the  staves  of  a  cask." 

"  Well  1  " 

u  They  place  your  right  leg,  —  when  I  say  'your,'  you 
understand,  my  dear  Buvat,  that  I  am  speaking  generally, 
and  do  not  intend  a  personal  application,  —  they  put 
your  right  leg,  then,  between  two  boards,  then  fasten  the 
boards  in  place  with  cords,  then  do  the  same  with  the  left 
leg,  then  draw  the  two  legs  together,  and  between 
the  middle  boards  introduce  wedges,  which  are  driven 
in  with  a  mallet,  —  five  for  the  question  ordinary,  ten 
for  the  question  extraordinary." 

"But,"  said  Buvat,  with  a  changed  voice,  "Mon- 
sieur Ducoudray,  that  must  put  the  legs  in  a  deplorable 
condition." 

"  Why,  yes,  it  breaks  your  legs  all  to  pieces.  At  the 
sixth  wedge,  for  example,  DuchaufTour's  legs  were  broken, 
and  at  the  eighth  the  marrow  of  the  bone  ran  out  with 
the  blood." 

Buvat  turned  deathly  pale,  and  sat  down  on  the  step- 
ladder  to  keep  himself  from  falling.  "  Jesus  / "  he  mur- 
mured, "what  are  you  telling  me,  Monsieur  Ducoudray?" 

"The  exact  truth,  my  dear  Buvat.  Read  the  torture 
of  Urbain  Grandier,  and  then  you  will  see  if  I  am  im- 
posing on  you." 


368  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

"  I  have  one  here,  —  that  of  poor  Monsieur  Van  den 
Enden." 

"Well,  read,  then." 

Buvat  turned  his  eyes  upon  the  book  and  read :  — 

"At  the  first  wedge:  Affirms  that  he  has  said  the  truth  ; 
that  he  has  nothing  to  add  ;  that  he  suffers  innocently. 

"At  the  second  wedge:  Says  that  he  has  declared  all  he 
knows. 

"At  the  third  wedge:  Cries  out,  'Ah,  my  God!  my  God! 
I  have  told  all  that  I  know.' 

11  At  the  fourth  wedge:  Says  that  he  can  confess  nothing 
more  than  is  already  known ;  that  is  to  say,  that  he  copied  a 
plan  of  government  that  was  given  him  by  the  Chevalier  de 
Kohan." 

Buvat  wiped  his  brow  with  his  handkerchief. 

"At  the  fifth  wedge:  Says,  'Oh,  oh,  my  God!'  but  says 
nothing  more. 

"  At  the  sixth  wedge :  Cries, '  Oh,  my  God  ! ' 

"  At  the  seventh  wedge :   Cries,  '  I  am  dead  ! ' 

"At  the  eighth  wedge:  Cries,  'Ah,  my  God  !  I  cannot  tell 
anything,  for  I  have  nothing  to  tell.' 

"At  the  ninth  wedge :  Says,  '  My  God  !  my  God !  Why 
torture  me  so  ?  You  know  well  that  I  can  tell  nothing. 
Since  I  am  condemned  to  death,  kill  me ! ' 

"At  the  tenth  wedge:  Says,  'Oh,  gentlemen,  what  do  you 
want  me  to  say?  Oh,  I  thank  thee,  my  God!  I  die,  I 
die!'" 

"  Well,  well,  what  is  the  matter,  Buvat  1 "  said  Du- 
coudray,  seeing  the  good  man  shake  and  grow  pale.  '!  Are 
you  ill?" 

"  Ah,  Monsieur  Ducoudray,"  said  Buvat,  dropping  the 
book,  and  dragging  himself  to  a  seat,  as  if  his  legs,  already 
broken,  could  sustain  him  no  longer,  —  "  ah,  Monsieur 
Ducoudray,  I  feel  I  am  going  to  faint." 


THE  PRINCE  DE  LISTHNAY'S  ACCOMPLICE.        369 

"  That  comes  of  reading  instead  of  working,"  said  an 
employee. 

"  Well,  Pere  Buvat,  are  you  better  1 "  asked  Ducoudray. 

44  Yes,  Monsieur,  for  rny  resolution  is  taken,  taken  irre- 
vocably. It  would  not  be  just,  by  Heaven,  that  I  should 
bear  the  punishment  for  a  crime  which  I  never  com- 
mitted. I  owe  it  to  society,  to  my  ward,  to  myself. 
Monsieur  Ducoudray,  if  the  curator  asks  for  me,  you 
will  tell  him  that  I  have  gone  out  on  pressing  business." 

And  Buvat  drew  the  roll  of  paper  from  the  drawer, 
pressed  his  hat  on  his  head,  took  his  stick,  and  went  out 
with  the  majesty  of  despair. 

"  Do  you  know  where  he  has  gone  ? "  asked  the  employee. 

"  No,"  answered  Ducoudray. 

"  I  will  tell  you  :  to  play  at  bowls  at  the  Champs- 
Elysees,   or  at  Porcherons." 

The  employee  was  wrong ;  he  had  gone  neither  to  the 
Champs-Elysees  nor  to  Porcherons.  He  had  gone  to 
Dubois. 


24 


370  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 


CHAPTER    XXXIII. 

THE   FOX   AND    THE    GOOSE. 

Monsieur  Jean  Buvat,"  said  the  usher.  Dubois 
stretched  out  his  viper's  head,  darted  a  look  at  the 
opening  which  was  left  between  the  usher  and  the  door, 
and  behind  the  official  introducer  perceived  a  little  fat, 
pale  man,  whose  legs  shook  under  him,  and  who  coughed 
to  give  himself  courage.  A  glance  sufficed  to  show  Du- 
bois the  sort  of  person  he  had  to  deal  with. 

"  Let  him  come  in,"  said  Dubois. 

The  usher  stood  aside,  and  Jean  Buvat  appeared  in  the 
doorway. 

"  Come  in,  come  in,"  said  Dubois. 

"  You  do  me  honor,  Monsieur,"  stammered  Buvat,  with- 
out  moving  from   his  place. 

"  Shut  the  door,  and  leave  us,"  said  Dubois  to  the  usher. 

The  usher  obeyed,  and  the  door  striking  Buvat  un- 
expectedly, made  him  jump.  Though  staggered  for  a 
moment,  he  steadied  himself  on  his  legs,  and  became 
once  more  immovable,  looking  at  Dubois  with  an  expres- 
sion of  astonishment. 

In  truth,  Dubois  was  a  curious  sight.  Of  his  episcopal 
costume  he  had  retained  only  the  inferior  part ;  so  that  he 
was  in  his  shirt,  with  black  breeches  and  violet  stockings. 
This  upset  all  Bu vat's  preconceived  notions.  What  he 
had  before  his  eyes  was  neither  a  minister  nor  an  arch- 
bishop, but  seemed  much  more  like  an  orang-outang  than 
a  man. 


THE  FOX  AND  THE  GOOSE.  371 

"  Well,  Monsieur,"  said  Dubois,  sitting  down  and  cross- 
ing his  legs,  and  taking  his  foot  in  his  hands,  "  you  have 
asked  to   speak  to   me ;  here  I  am." 

"  That  is  to  say,  Monsieur,"  said  Buvat,  "  I  asked  to 
speak  to   Monseigneur  the  Archbishop   of  Cambrai." 

"  Well,  I  am  he." 

"  What !  you,  Monseigneur  % "  cried  Buvat,  taking  his 
hat  in  both  hands,  and  bowing  almost  to  the  floor.  "  Ex- 
cuse me,  but  I  did  not  recognize  your  Eminence.  It  is 
true  that  this  is  the  first  time  I  have  had  the  honor  of 
seeing  you.  Still  —  hum  !  at  that  air  of  majesty  —  hum, 
hum  —  I  ought  to  have  understood  —  " 

"  Your  name  1 "  asked  Dubois,  interrupting  the  good 
man's  compliments. 

"Jean  Buvat,  at  your  service." 

"You  are  —  1" 

"  An  employee  at  the  library." 

"And  you  have  some  revelations  to  make  to  me  con- 
cerning Spain  1 " 

"  That  is  to  say,  Monseigneur  —  This  is  how  it  is. 
As  my  office-work  leaves  me  six  hours  in  the  evening  and 
four  in  the  morning,  and  as  Heaven  has  blessed  me  with 
a  very  good  handwriting,  I  make  copies." 

"  Yes,  I  understand,"  said  Dubois  ;  "  and  some  one  has 
given  you  suspicious  papers  to  copy  ;  so  you  have  brought 
these  suspicious  papers  to  me,  have  you  not  ?  " 

"In  this  roll,  Monseigneur,  in  this  roll,"  said  Buvat, 
extending  it  toward  Dubois. 

Dubois  made  a  single  bound  from  his  chair  to  Buvat, 
took  the  roll,  and  sat  down  at  a  desk,  and  with  a  turn  of 
the  hand  having  torn  off  the  string  and  the  wrapper,  found 
the  papers  in  question.  The  first  on  which  he  lighted 
were  in  Spanish ;  but  as  Dubois  had  been  sent  twice  to 
Spain,  and  knew  something  of  the  language  of  Calderon 


372  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

and  Lopez  de  Vega,  he  saw  at  the  first  glance  how  impor- 
tant these  papers  were.  Indeed,  they  were  neither  more 
nor  less  than  the  protestation  of  the  nobility,  the  list  of 
officers  who  sought  service  under  the  King  of  Spain,  and 
the  manifesto  prepared  by  the  Cardinal  de  Polignac  and 
the  Marquis  de  Pompadour  to  rouse  the  kingdom.  These 
different  documents  were  addressed  directly  to  Philip  V. ; 
and  a  little  note  —  which  Dubois  recognized  as  in  Cella- 
mare's  handwriting  —  announced  that  the  denouement 
of  the  conspiracy  was  near  at  hand;  he  informed  his 
Catholic  Majesty,  from  day  to  day,  of  all  the  important 
events  which  could  advance  or  retard  the  scheme.  Then 
came,  finally,  that  famous  plan  of  the  conspirators  which 
we  have  already  given  to  our  readers,  and  which  —  left  by 
an  oversight  among  the  papers  which  had  been,  translated 
into  Spanish  —  had  opened  Buvat's  eyes.  Near  the  plan, 
in  the  good  man's  best  writing,  was  the  copy  which  he 
had  begun  to  make,  and  which  was  broken  off  at  the 
words,  "  Act  thus  in  all  the  provinces." 

Buvat  had  followed  all  the  working  of  Dubois's  face 
with  a  certain  anxiety ;  he  had  seen  its  expressions  change 
from  astonishment  to  joy,  then  from  joy  to  impassibility. 
Dubois,  as  he  continued  to  read,  had  passed  successively 
one  leg  over  the  other,  had  bitten  his  lips,  and  pinched 
the  end  of  his  nose  ;  but  all  this  had  been  utterly  untrans- 
latable to  Buvat,  and  at  the  end  of  the  reading  he  no 
more  understood  the  face  of  the  archbishop  than  at  the 
end  of  the  copy  he  had  understood  the  Spanish  original. 
As  to  Dubois,  he  saw  that  this  man  had  come  to  furnish 
him  with  the  beginning  of  a  most  important  secret,  and 
he  was  meditating  on  the  best  means  of  making  him  fur- 
nish the  end  also.  This  was  the  signification  of  the 
crossed  legs,  the  bitten  lips,  and  the  pinched  nose.  At 
last  he  appeared  to  have  taken  his  resolution.    A  charming 


THE  FOX  AND  THE  GOOSE.  373 

benevolence  overspread  his  countenance;  and  turning 
toward  the  good  man,  who  had  remained  standing  respect- 
fully, "  Take  a  seat,  my  dear  Monsieur  Buvat,"  said  he. 

"  Thank  you,  Monseigneur,"  answered  Buvat,  trembling ; 
"  I  am  not  fatigued." 

"Pardon,  pardon,"  said  Dubois,  "but  your  legs 
shake." 

Indeed,  since  he  had  read  the  report  of  the  torture  of 
Van  den  Enden,  Buvat  had  retained  in  his  legs  a  nervous 
trembling,  somewhat  like  that  which  may  be  observed  in 
dogs  that  have  the  distemper. 

"The  fact  is,. Monseigneur,"  said  Buvat,  "that  I  don't 
know  what  has  come  to  me  in  the  last  two  hours,  but  I 
find  a  great  difficulty  in  standing  upright." 

"  Sit  down,  then,  and  let  us  talk  like  two  friends." 

Buvat  looked  at  Dubois  with  an  air  of  stupefaction 
■which  at  any  other  time  would  have  had  the  effect  of 
making  him  burst  out  laughing  ;  but  now  he  did  not  seem 
to  notice  it,  and  drawing  forward  a  chair  which  was  within 
his  reach,  he  repeated  with  his  hand  the  invitation  which 
he  had  given  with  his  voice.  There  was  no  way  of  draw- 
ing back;  the  good  man  approached  trembling,  and  sat 
down  on  the  edge  of  his  chair,  put  his  hat  on  the  floor, 
took  his  cane  between  his  legs,  and  waited.  All  this, 
however,  was  not  executed  without  a  violent  internal 
struggle,  as  his  face  testified,  which,  white  as  a  lily  when 
he  came  in,  had  now  become  as  red  as  a  peony. 

"  My  dear  Monsieur  Buvat,  you  say  that  you  make 
copies  1 " 

"  Yes,  Monseigneur." 

"  And  that  brings  you  in  —  V* 

"  Very  little,  Monseigneur,  very  little." 

"  You  have,  nevertheless,  a  superb  handwriting,  Mon- 
sieur Buvat." 


374  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

"  Yes ;  but  all  the  world  does  not  appreciate  the  value 
of  that  talent  as  your  Eminence  does." 

"  That  is  true  ;  but  you  are  employed  at  the  library  1 " 

"  I  have  that  honor." 

"  And  your  place  brings  you  —  V1 

"  Oh,  my  place,  —  that  is  another  thing,  Monseigneur ; 
it  brings  me  in  nothing  at  all,  seeing  that  for  five  years 
the  cashier  has  told  us  at  the  end  of  each  month  that  the 
king  was  too  poor  to  pay  us." 

"  And  you  still  remained  in  the  service  of  his  Majesty  1 
That  was  well  done,  Monsieur  Buvat;  that  was  well 
done." 

Buvat  rose,  saluted  Dubois,  and  reseated  himself. 

u  And  perhaps  all  the  while  you  have  a  family  to 
support,  —  a  wife,  children  1 " 

"  No,  Monseigneur ;  up  to  the  present  time  I  have 
remained  a  bachelor." 

"  But  you  have  relatives,  of  course  1  " 

"  No,  Monseigneur ;  but  I  have  a  ward,  —  a  charming 
young  person,  full  of  talent,  who  sings  like  Mademoiselle 
Bury,  and  who  draws  like  Monsieur  Greuze." 

"  Ah,  ah !  and  what  is  the  name  of  your  ward, 
Monsieur  Buvat?" 

"  Bathilde  —  Bathilde  du  Rocher,  Monseigneur  ;  she  is 
a  young  lady  of  noble  family.  Her  father  was  squire  to 
Monsieur  le  Regent  when  he  was  still  Due  de  Chartres, 
and  had  the  misfortune  to  be  killed  at  the  battle  of 
Almanza." 

"  Thus  I  see  you  have  your  charges,  my  dear  Buvat." 

"Is  it  of  Bathilde  that  you  speak,  Monseigneur?  Oh, 
no,  Bathilde  is  not  a  charge ;  on  the  contrary,  poor  dear 
girl,  she  brings  in  more  than  she  costs.  Bathilde  a  charge  ! 
Firstly,  every  month  Monsieur  Papillon,  the  dealer  in 
colors  at  the  corner  of  the  Rue  Clery,  you  know,  Mon- 


THE  FOX  AND  THE  GOOSE.  375 

seigneur,    gives   her    eighty   francs    for    two    drawings; 

then  —  " 

"  What  I  mean  is,  my  dear  Buvat,  that  you  are  not  rich." 
"  Oh,  rich !  no,  Monseigneur,  I  am  not.     But  I  wish  I 

were,  for  poor  Bathilde's  sake ;   and  if  you  could  obtain 

from    Monseigneur   that    out  of  the    first    money  which 

comes  into  the  State  coffers  he  would  pay  me  my  arrears, 

or  at  least  something  on  account  —  " 

"And  to  how  much  do  your  arrears  amount  1 " 

"  To  four  thousand  seven  hundred  francs,  two  sous,  and 

eight  centimes,  Monseigneur." 

"  Is  that  all  1 "  said  Dubois ;  "  that  is  nothing." 

u  Indeed,  Monseigneur,  it  is    a   great   deal ;    and  the 

proof  is  that  the  king  cannot  pay  it." 
"  But  that  will  not  make  you  rich." 
"  It  will  make  me  comfortable ;  and  I  do  not  conceal 

from  you,  Monseigneur,  that  if,  from  the  first  money  which 

comes  into  the  treasury  —  " 

"My  dear  Buvat,"  said   Dubois,    "I  have   something 

better  than  that  to  offer  you." 
"  Offer  it,  Monseigneur." 

"You  have  your  fortune  at  your  fingers'  ends." 
"My  mother  always  told  me  so,  Monseigneur." 
"That  proves,"  said  Dubois,  "what  a  sensible  woman 

your  mother  was." 

"  Well,  Monseigneur,  I  am  ready  ;  what  must  I  do  1 " 
"Ah,  mon  Dieu!   the  thing  is  very  simple;  you  will 

make  me,  now  and  here,  copies  of  all  these." 
"  But,  Monseigneur —  " 
"  That  is  not  all,  my  dear  Monsieur  Buvat.     You  will 

take  back  the  copies  and  the  originals  to  the  person  who 

gave  you  these  papers,  as  if  nothing  had  happened ;  you 

will  take  all  that  that  person  gives  you ;  you  will  bring 

them  to  me  directly,  so  that  I  may  read  them  ;  then  you 


376  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

will  do  the  same  with  those  other  papers  as  with  these,  — 
and  so  on  indefinitely,  till  I  say,  Enough." 

a  But,  Monseigneur,  it  seems  to  me  that  in  acting  thus 
I  should  betray  the  confidence  of  the  prince." 

"  Ah !  it  is  with  the  prince  that  you  have  business, 
Monsieur  Buvat  1  and  what  may  this  prince  be  called  1 " 

"  Oh,  Monseigneur,  it  appears  to  me  that  in  telling  you 
his  name  I  denounce  —  M 

"  Well,  and  what  have  you  come  here  for,  then  1 " 

"  Monseigneur,  I  have  come  here  to  inform  you 
of  the  danger  to  which  his  Highness  is  exposed,  that  is 
all." 

"  Indeed,"  said  Dubois,  in  a  bantering  tone,  "  and  you 
imagine  you  are  going  to  stop  there  1  " 

"  I  wish  to  do  so,  Monseigneur." 

"  There  is  only  one  misfortune,  that  it  is  impossible, 
my  dear  Monsieur  Buvat." 

"What!  impossible?" 

"Entirely." 

"  Monseigneur,  I  am  an  honest  man." 

"  Monsieur  Buvat,  you  are  a  simpleton." 

"  Monsieur,  I  wish  nevertheless  to  keep  silence." 

"  My  dear  Monsieur,  you  will  speak." 

"  And  if  I  speak,  I  shall  be  an  informer  against  the 
prince." 

"  Tf  you  do  not  speak,  you  are  his  accomplice." 

"  His  accomplice,  Monseigneur !  and  in  what  crime  1 " 

"  In  the  crime  of  high  treason.  Ah  !  the  police  have 
had  their  eyes  on  you  this  long  time,  Monsieur  Buvat !  " 

"  On  me,  Monseigneur  ?  " 

"  Yes,  on  yon  ;  under  the  pretext  that  they  do  not  pay 
you  your  salary,  you  entertain  seditious  proposals  against 
the  State." 

"  Oh,  Monseigneur,  how  can  they  say  so  1 " 


THE  FOX  AND  THE  GOOSE.  377 

"  Under  the  pretext  of  their  not  paying  you  your  salary, 
you  have  been  making  copies  of  incendiary  documents  for 
the  last  four  days." 

"  Monseigneur,  I  found  it  out  only  yesterday ;  I  don't 
understand  Spanish." 

"  You  do  understand  it,  Monsieur." 

"  I  swear,  Monseigneur." 

"  I  tell  you  that  you  do  understand  it,  and  the  proof  is 
that  there  is  not  a  mistake  in  your  copies.  But  that  is 
not  all." 

"What!  not  all  1" 

"No,  that  is  not  all.  Is  this  Spanish?  Look,  Mon- 
sieur," and  he  read  :  — 

"  Nothing  is  more  important  than  to  make  sure  of  the  places 
near,  the  Pyrenees,  and  of  the  noblemen  who  reside  in  those 
cantons." 

"But,  Monseigneur,  it  was  just  that  which  led  me  to 
discover  —  " 

"  Monsieur  Buvat,  they  have  sent  men  to  the  galleys  for 
less  than  you  have  done." 

"  Monseigneur  ! " 

"  Monsieur  Buvat,  men  have  been  hanged  who  were  less 
guilty  than  you." 

"  Monseigneur !  Monseigneur ! " 

"  Monsieur  Buvat,  they  have  broken  on  the  wheel  —  " 

"  Mercy,  Monseigneur,  mercy  !  " 

*  Mercy  to  a  criminal  like  you,  Monsieur  Buvat !  I 
shall  send  you  to  the  Bastille,  and  Mademoiselle  Bathilde 
to  St.  Lazare." 

"  To  St.  Lazare  !  Bathilde  to  St.  Lazare,  Monseigneur ! 
Bathilde  to  St.  Lazare  !  and  who  has  the  right  to  do  that  1 " 

"  I,  Monsieur  Buvat !  " 

"  No,  Monseigneur,   you  have  not   the   right ! "    cried 


378  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

Buvat,  who  could  fear  and  suffer  everything  for  himself, 
hut  who,  at  the  thought  of  such  infamy,  from  a  worm 
became  a  serpent.  "Bathilde  is  not  a  daughter  of  the 
people,  Monseigneur !  Bathilde  is  a  lady  of  noble  birth, 
the  daughter  of  a  man  who  saved  the  life  of  the  regent ; 
and  when  I  represent  to  his  Highness  —  " 

"You  will  go  first  to  the  Bastille,  Monsieur  Buvat," 
said  Dubois,  pulling  the  bell  so  as  nearly  to  break  it,  "and 
then  we  will  see  about  Mademoiselle  Bathilde." 

"Monseigneur,  what  are  you  doing?" 

"You  will  see."  (The  usher  entered.)  "An  officer  of 
police,  and  a  carriage." 

"  Monseigneur,"  cried  Buvat,  "  all  that  you  wish  —  " 

"  Do  as  I  have  bid  you,"  said  Dubois. 

The  usher  went  out. 

"  Monseigneur,"  said  Buvat,  joining  his  hands,  — 
"  Monseigneur,   I  will  obey." 

"  No,  Monsieur  Buvat.  Ah  !  you  wish  for  a  trial,  — 
you  shall  have  one.  You  want  a  rope,  —  you  shall  not  be 
disappointed." 

u  Monseigneur,"  cried  Buvat,  falling  on  his  knees, 
"what  must  I  do?" 

"  Hang,  hang,  hang  !  "  continued  Dubois. 

"  Monseigneur,"  said  the  usher,  returning,  "  the  carriage 
is  at  the  door,  and  the  officer  in  the  anteroom." 

"Monseigneur,"  said  Buvat,  twisting  his  short  arms 
and  tearing  out  the  few  yellow  hairs  which  he  had  left, 
—  "  Monseigneur,  will  you  be  pitiless  ? " 

"  Ah  !  you  will  not  tell  me  the  name  of  the  prince  ? " 

*  It  is  the  Prince  de  Listhnay,  Monseigneur." 

"  Ah  !  you  will  not  tell  me  his  address  1 " 

"He  lives  at  No.  110  Rue  du  Bac,  Monseigneur." 

"  You  will  not  make  me  copies  of  those  papers  1 " 

"I  will  do  it,  —  I  will  do  it  this  instant,"  said  Buvat ; 


THE  FOX  AND  THE  GOOSE.         379 

and  he  went  and  sat  down  before  the  desk,  took  a  pen, 
dipped  it  in  the  ink,  and  taking  some  paper,  began  the 
first  page  with  a  superb  capital.  H I  will  do  it,  —  I  will 
do  it,  Monseigneur ;  only  you  will  allow  me  to  write  to 
Bathilde  that  I  shall  not  be  home  to  dinner.  Bathilde  to 
the  St.  Lazare  !  "  he  muttered  between  his  teeth.  "Sabre 
de  bois  I  he  would  have  done  as  he  said." 

"  Yes,  Monsieur,  I  would  have  done  that,  and  more  too, 
for  the  safety  of  the  State,  as  you  will  find  out  to  your 
cost  if  you  do  not  return  these  papers,  and  if  you  do  not 
take  the  others,  and  if  you  do  not  come  here  every  even- 
ing to  copy  them." 

"  But,  Monseigneur,"  cried  Buvat,  in  despair,  "  I  cannot 
then  go  to  my  office." 

"Well,  then,  you  will  not  go  to  your  office,  —  a  great 
misfortune  ! " 

"  Not  go  to  my  office !  but  I  have  not  missed  a  day  for 
twelve  years,  Monseigneur." 

"  Well,  I  give  you  a  month's  leave." 

"  But  I  shall  lose  my  place,  Monseigneur." 

"  What  will  that  matter  to  you,  since  they  do  not  pay 
you?" 

"  But  the  honor  of  being  a  public  functionary,  Mon- 
seigneur !  and,  moreover,  I  love  my  books,  I  love  my 
table,  I  love  my  armchair,"  cried  Buvat,  ready  to  cry  at 
the  thought  of  losing  all  that. 

"Well,  then,  if  you  wish  to  keep  your  books,  your 
table,  and  your  chair,  I  advise  you  to  obey  me." 

"  Have  I  not  already  put  myself  at  your  service,  Mon- 
seigneur 1 " 

"  Then  you  will  do  all  that  I  wish  1 " 

"  Everything." 

*  Without  breathing  a  word  to  any  one]" 

"  I  will  be  dumb." 


380  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

"  Not  even  to  Mademoiselle  Bathilde  1 " 

"  To  her  less  than  any  one  else,  Monseigneur." 

*  That  is  well ;  on  that  condition  I  pardon  you." 

"  Oh,  Monseigneur  ! " 

"  I  shall  forget  your  fault.''* 

"  Monseigneur  is  too  good." 

"  And  perhaps  I  will  even  reward  you." 

"  Oh,  Monseigneur,  what  magnanimity  !  " 

0  Well,  well ;  set  to  work." 

"  I  am  ready,  Monseigneur,  —  I  am  ready." 

And  Buvat  began  to  write  in  his  most  rapid  style,  and 
without  moving  his  eyes  except  from  the  original  to  the 
copy,  and  from  the  copy  to  the  original,  and  without 
pausing  except  to  wipe  his  forehead,  which  was  covered 
with  perspiration.  Dubois  profited  by  his  industry  to 
open  the  closet  for  La  Fillon ;  and  making  a  sign  to  her 
to  be  silent,  he  led  her  toward  the  door. 

"Well,  gossip,"  she  whispered,  —  for  in  spite  of  his 
caution  she  could  not  restrain  her  curiosity,  —  "  where  is 
your  writer  % " 

"  There  he  is,"  said  Dubois,  showing  Buvat,  who,  lean- 
ing over  his  paper,  was  working  away  industriously. 

"What  is  he  doing V 

"Guess." 

"  How  should  I  know  1 " 
■a  Then  you  want  me  to  tell  you  1 " 
>"Yes." 

"  Well,  he  is  making  my  cardinal's  hat." 
La  Fillon  uttered  such  an  exclamation  of  surprise  that 
Buvat  started  and  turned  round  ;  but  Dubois  had  already 
pushed  her  out  of  the  room,  again  recommending  her  to 
send  him  daily  information  of  what  her  captain  was  doing. 
But  the  reader  will  ask  what  Bathilde  and  D'Harmental 
were  doing  all  this  time.     Nothing  j  they  were  happy. 


A  CHAPTER  OF  SAINT-SIMON.  381 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

A  CHAPTER   OF    SAINT-SIMON. 

Four  days  passed  thus,  during  which  Buvat  —  remaining 
absent  from  the  office  on  pretext  of  indisposition  —  suc- 
ceeded in  completing  the  two  copies,  one  for  the  Prince 
de  Listhnay,  the  other  for  Dubois.  During  these  four 
days  —  certainly  the  most  agitated  of  his  life  —  he  was 
so  taciturn  and  gloomy  that  Bathilde  several  times  asked 
him  what  was  the  matter.  But  every  time  that  question 
was  put  to  him,  Buvat,  mustering  all  his  moral  energy, 
replied  that  there  was  absolutely  nothing  troubling  him ; 
and  inasmuch  as  after  making  that  reply  he  began  at 
once  to  sing  his  little  song,  he  succeeded  in  deceiving 
Bathilde,  —  the  more  easily  because  he  set  out  every 
morning  as  usual,  as  if  he  continued  going  to  the  library, 
so  that  Bathilde  saw  no  material  disturbance  of  his  ordi- 
nary habits. 

As  to  D'Harmental,  he  received  every  morning  a  visit 
from  the  Abbe  Brigaud,  who  told  him  that  everything 
was  going  on  as  well  as  could  be  desired;  and  since,  on 
the  other  hand,  his  love-affair  was  progressing  favorably, 
D'Harmental  began  to  think  that  the  lot  of  a  conspirator 
was  the  happiest  on  earth. 

As  to  the  Due  d'Orleans,  suspecting  nothing,  he  con- 
tinued his  ordinary  life,  and  had  invited  the  customary 
guests  to  his  Sunday's  supper,  when  in  the  afternoon 
Dubois  entered  his  room. 


382  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

"  Ah,  it  is  you,  Abbe  !  "  said  the  regent ;  "  I  was  going 
to  send  to  you  to  know  if  you  would  be  with  us  to-night." 

"  You  are  going  to  have  a  supper,  then,  Monseigneur  1 " 
asked  Dubois. 

"Where  do  you  come  from  with  your  fast-day  face] 
Is  not  to-day  Sunday]" 

"Yes,  Monseigneur." 

"  Well,  then,  come  back  to  us.  Here  is  the  list  of  the 
guests  :  Noce,  Lafare,  Fargy,  Eavanne,  Broglie.  I  do  not 
invite  Brancas  ;  he  has  been  wearisome  for  some  days. 
Faith  !  I  think  he  must  be  conspiring.  Then  La  Phalaris 
and  D'Averne ;  they  cannot  bear  each  other ;  they  will 
tear  out  each  other's  eyes,  and  that  will  amuse  us.  Then 
we  shall  have  La  Souris,  and  perhaps  Madame  de  Sabran, 
if  she  has  no  appointment  with  Eichelieu." 

"  This  is  your  list,  Monseigneur  % " 

"Yes." 

"Well,  now  will  your  Highness  bestow  a  glance  on 
mine  ? " 

"  Have  you  made  one  too  1 " 

"  No,  it  was  brought  to  me  ready-made." 

"  What  is  this  1 "  asked  the  regent,  looking  at  a  paper 
which  Dubois  presented  to  him.  "  '  List  of  the  officers  * 
names  who  ask  for  service  in  the  Spanish  army  :  Claude- 
Francois  de  Ferrette,  Chevalier  de  Saint  Louis,  Field- 
Marshal  and  Colonel  of  Cavalry;  Boschet,  Chevalier  de 
Saint  Louis  and  Colonel  of  Infantry;  De  Sabran;  De 
Larochefoucault-Gondral ;  De  Villeneuve ;  De  Lescure ;  De 
Laval.'     Well,  what  next  1 " 

"  Here  is  another ; "  and  he  presented  a  second  paper 
to  the  duke. 

"  '  Protestation  of  the  nobility.' " 

"  Make  your  lists,  Monseigneur ;  you  are  not  the  only 
one,  you  see,  — the  Prince  de  Cellamare  makes  his  also." 


A  CHAPTER  OF  SAINT-SIMON.  383 

M  *  Signed  without  distinction  of  ranks,  so  that  there  may 
be  no  dissatisfaction  :  De  Vieux-Pont,  De  la  Pailleterie, 
De  Beaufremont,  De  Latour-du-Pin,  De  Montauban,  Louis 
de  Caumont,  Claude  de  Polignac,  Charles  de  Laval,  An- 
toine  de  Chastellux,  Arniand  de  Richelieu.'  Where  the 
devil  did  you  fish  up  all  this,  you  old  fox?" 

"  Wait,  Monseigueur,  we  have  not  done  yet.  Look  at 
this." 

"  '  Plan  of  the  Conspirators :  Nothing  is  more  impor- 
tant than  to  make  sure  of  the  strong  places  near  the 
Pyrenees,  to  gain  the  garrison  of  Bayonne/  Surrender 
our  towns  !  give  the  keys  of  France  into  the  hands  of  the 
Spanish  !     What  does  this  mean,  Dubois  1 " 

"  Patience,  Monseigneur ;  we  have  better  than  that  to 
show  you  :  we  have  here  the  letters  from  his  Majesty 
Philip  V.  himself." 

" '  To  the  King  of  France  — '  But  these  are  only 
copies." 

"  I  will  tell  you  soon  where  the  originals  are." 

M  Let  us  see,  my  dear  Abbe,  let  us  see.  '  Since  Provi- 
dence has  placed  me  on  the  throne  of  Spain,'  etc.  l  In 
what  light  can  your  faithful  subjects  regard  the  treaty 
which  is  signed  against  me?'  etc.  *  I  beg  your  Majesty 
to  convoke  the  States-General  of  the  kingdom.'  Convoke 
the  States-General !     In  whose  name  1 " 

"  In  the  name  of  Philip  V." 

"  Philip  Y.  is  King  of  Spain  and  not  of  France.  Let 
him  keep  to  his  own  character.  I  crossed  the  Pyrenees 
once  to  secure  him  on  his  throne;  I  might  cross  them 
a  second  time  to  remove  him  from  it." 

"  We  will  think  of  that  later,  —  I  do  not  say  no  ;  but 
for  the  present,  if  you  please,  Monseigneur,  we  have  the 
fifth  piece  to  read,  —  and  not  the  least  important,  as  you 
will  see." 


384  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

And  Dubois  presented  another  paper  to  the  regent, 
which  he  opened  with  such  impatience  that  he  tore  it. 

"  Never  mind,"  said  Dubois,  "  the  pieces  are  good  \  put 
them  together  and  read  them." 

The  regent  did  so,  and  read,  "  Dearly  and  well  beloved." 
"  Ah  ! "  said  he,  "  it  is  a  question  of  my  deposition.  And 
these  letters,  I  suppose,  were  to  be  given  to  the  king1?" 

"  To-morrow,  Monseigneur." 

"By  whom?" 

"The  marshal." 

"Villeroy?" 

"  Himself." 

"  How  did  he  determine  on  such  a  thing  % " 

"  It  was  not  he ;  it  was  his  wife,  Monseigneur." 

"  Another  of  Richelieu's  tricks." 

"  You  are  right,  Monseigneur." 

"  And  from  whom  do  you  get  these  papers  1 " 

"  From  a  poor  writer  to  whom  they  have  been  given  to  be 
copied,  since,  thanks  to  a  descent  made  on  Laval's  house,  a 
press  which  he  had  hidden  in  the  cellar  has  ceased  to  work." 

"And  this  writer  is  in  direct  communication  with  Cel- 
lamare?     The  idiots!" 

"  Not  at  all,  Monseigneur ;  their  measures  are  better 
taken.  The  good  man  has  had  to  deal  only  with  the 
Prince  de  Listhnay." 

" Prince  de  Listhnay  !     Who  is  he?" 

"RueduBac,  110." 

"  I  do  not  know  him." 

"  Yes,  you  do,  Monseigneur." 

"  Where  have  I  seen  him  1 " 

"  In  your  antechamber." 

"  What !  this  pretended  Prince  de  Listhnay  —  w 

"  Is  no  other  than  that  scoundrel  D'Avranches,  Madame 
du  Maine's  valet-de  chambre." 


A  CHAPTER  OF  SAINT-SIMON.  385 

"  Ah  !  I  was  astonished  that  she  was  not  in  it,  —  the 
little  wasp  ! " 

"  Oh,  she  is  fully  committed  to  it ;  and  if  Monseigneur 
would  like  this  time  to  dispose  finally  of  her  and  her 
clique,  we  have  them  all." 

"  Let  us  attend  first  to  what  is  most  pressing." 

"Yes,  let  us  think  of  Villeroy.  Are  you  prepared  to 
act  with  authority  1 " 

"Entirely.  So  long  as  he  only  strutted  and  paraded 
like  a  man  of  the  theatre  or  the  tilt-yard,  very  well ;  so 
long  as  he  confined  himself  to  calumnies  and  imperti- 
nences against  me,  still  very  well ;  but  when  it  becomes 
a  question  of  the  peace  and  tranquillity  of  France, — 
ah,  Monsieur  le  Marechal,  you  have  already  compromised 
them  sufficiently  by  your  military  incapacity,  and  we  will 
not  give  you  an  opportunity  of  compromising  them  again 
by  your  political  follies." 

"Then,"  said  Dubois,  "  we  are  to  lay  hands  on  him  1" 

"Yes;  but  with  certain  precautions.  We  must  take 
him  in  the  act." 

"  Nothing  easier.  He  goes  every  morning  at  eight 
o'clock  to  the  king." 

"Yes." 

"Be  to-morrow  at  half-past  seven  at  Versailles." 

"Well?" 

"  You  will  be  before  him  with  his  Majesty." 

"And  there  I  will  reproach  him,  in  presence  of  the 
king—-" 

"  By  no  means,  Monseigneur  ;  it  is  necessary  —  " 

At  that  moment  the  usher  opened  the  door. 

"  Hush  !  "  said  the  regent.  Then,  turning  toward  the 
usher,  "What  is  it?"  said  he. 

"  Monsieur  le  Due  de  Saint-Simon." 

"  Ask  him  if  he  is  on  serious  business." 
25 


386  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

The  usher  turned  back  and  exchanged  a  few  words  with 
the  duke;  then  addressing  himself  again  to  the  regent, 
"Most  serious,  Monseigneur,"  said  he. 

"Very  well ;  let  him  come  in." 

Saint-Simon  entered. 

"Pardon,  Duke,"  said  the  regent,  "I  have  a  little  mat- 
ter to  arrange  with  Dubois,  and  in  five  minutes  will  be  at 
your  service." 

The  regent  and  Dubois  withdrew  to  a  corner,  where 
they  conversed  together  in  low  tones  for  about  five  min- 
utes, after  which  Dubois  took  his  leave. 

"There  will  be  no  supper  this  evening,"  said  Dubois  to 
the  usher ;  "  give  notice  to  the  persons  invited.  The  regent 
is  ill."     And  he  went  out. 

"Is  that  true,  Monseigneur  1 "  asked  Saint-Simon,  with 
genuine  concern  ;  for  the  duke,  though  very  chary  of  his 
friendship,   had  a  great  regard  for  the  regent. 

"  No,  my  dear  Duke,"  said  Philippe,  "  at  least  not  in 
a  way  to  make  me  uneasy ;  but  Chirac  pretends  that  if 
I  am  not  more  steady  I  shall  die  of  apoplexy,  and  really 
I  have  decided  to  reform." 

"  Ah,  Monseigneur,  may  God  hear  you  !  "  said  Saint- 
Simon  ;  "although  in  fact  that  comes  somewhat  late." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  my  dear  Duke  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  your  Highness' s  indulgence  has  already  given 
only  too  strong  a  hold  to  calumny." 

"  Ah,  if  that  is  all,  my  dear  Duke,  calumny  has  been 
nibbling  at  me  so  long  that  it  must  begin  to  grow  weary." 

"  On  the  contrary,  Monseigneur,"  replied  Saint-Simon, 
"  it  must  invent  something  new  against  you,  and  it  erects 
its  head  more  sibilant  and  more  venomous  than  ever." 

"  Well,  let  us  see ;  what  is  going  on  1 " 

"  For  example  :  a  little  while  ago  a  beggar  stood  on  the 
steps  of  St.  Koch,  who  sang,  and  asked  alms  of  those 


A  CHAPTER  OF  SAINT-SIMON.  387 

who  were  coming  out  from  vespers.  While  he  sang,  he 
offered  to  them  what  seemed  to  be  ballads.  Now,  can 
you  imagine  what  those  ballads  were,  Monseigneur  % " 

"No  ;  some  Christmas  song,  some  diatribe  against  Law, 
against  that  poor  Duchesse  de  Berri,  against  me,  perhaps. 
Oh,  my  dear  Duke,  we  must  let  them  sing,  if  only  they  pay." 

"Hold,  Monseigneur;  read!"  said  Saint-Simon.  And 
he  presented  to  the  Due  d'Orleans  a  coarse  paper,  printed, 
and  resembling  the  printed  songs  that  are  sung  in  the 
streets.  The  prince  took  it,  shrugging  his  shoulders,  and 
casting  his  eyes  upon  it  with  an  inexpressible  feeling  of 
disgust,  he  read  as  follows  :  — 

"You,  whose  eloquent  speech 

Against  two  tyrants  inhuman 
Once  bravely  dared  to  teach 

War  to  the  Greek  and  the  Roman, 
Give  me  your  power,  that  I  may  pierce 
The  armor  of  a  beast  more  fierce. 

I  burn  to  go  where  you  lead, 
And  will  even  make  the  attempt, 
From  all  chilling  fears  exempt, 

Charmed  by  your  glorious  deed." 

"  Your  Highness  recognizes  the  style  % "  asked  Saint- 
Simon. 

**  Yes,"  replied  the  regent ;  "  it  is  Lagrange-Chancers." 
Then  he  continued  :  — 

"  He  had  hardly  opened  his  eyes 

"When  —  such  as  to-day  he  is  shown  — 
He  filled  the  air  with  his  cries, 

Because  he  was  kept  from  the  throne. 
To  those  detestable  ideas, 
Sprung  from  the  Circes  and  Medeas, 

His  mind  alone  aspires, 
Thinking  by  that  infernal  art 
To  bridge  the  chasm  that  apart 

Keeps  him  from  his  desires." 


388  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

"  Here,  Duke,"  said  the  regent,  handing  the  paper  to 
Saint-Simon ;  "it  is  so  contemptible  that  I  have  n't  the 
heart  to  go  on  with  it." 

"  Read,  Monseigneur,  read !  You  must  learn  of  what 
your  enemies  are  capable.  "When  they  show  themselves 
in  the  light,  so  much  the  better.  Then  it  is  war.  They 
offer  you  battle.  Accept  the  battle,  and  prove  to  them 
that  you  are  the  conqueror  of  Nerwinden,  of  Steenkirk, 
and  of  Lerida." 

"You  wish  it,  then,  Duke?" 

"  It  is  necessary,  Monseigneur." 

The  regent,  with  a  feeling  of  repugnance  almost  insur- 
mountable, returned  to  the  paper,  and  omitting  one  stanza, 
that  he  might  the  sooner  reach  the  end,  read  :  — 

"Thus  the  sons,  their  father  weeping, 

By  the  same  hand  are  robbed  of  life  ; 
The  brothers  side  by  side  are  sleeping  ; 

The  husband  follows  then  the  wife. 
Then  —  fatal  blow,  that  brings  the  end  !  — 
Two  sons,  on  whom  our  hopes  depend, 

The  sweeping  scythe  of  Fate  pursues. 
The  first  of  these  has  joined  his  race  ; 
The  other,  with  a  pallid  face, 

Awaits  the  call  none  can  refuse.*' 

The  regent  read  these  lines  with  a  trembling  voice ;  and 
when  he  reached  the  end,  his  indignation  proved  greater 
than  his  strength.  Crushing  the  paper  in  his  hands,  he 
began  to  speak ;  but  his  voice  failed  him,  and  two  great 
tears  rolled  from  his  eyes  down  his  cheeks. 

"Monseigneur,"  said  Saint-Simon,  looking  at  the  regent 
with  a  compassion  full  of  veneration,  "  I  wish  the  entire 
world  were  here  to  see  those  generous  tears.  I  should  no 
longer  advise  you  to  take  vengeance  on  your  enemies,  for 
the  entire  world  would  be  convinced,  as  I  am,  of  your 
innocence." 


A  CHAPTER  OF  SAINT-SIMON.  389 

"Yes,  my  innocence,"  murmured  the  regent;  "yes, 
and  the  life  of  Louis  XV.  will  hear  witness  to  it.  The 
scoundrels  !  They  know  well  who  are  the  real  culprits. 
Ah,  Madame  de  Maintenon  !  ah,  Madame  du  Maine  !  ah, 
Monsieur  de  Villeroy !  For  that  miserahle  Lagrange- 
tJhancelis  only  their  scorpion.  And  to  think,  Saint- 
Simon,  that  at  this  very  moment  I  have  them  under  my 
feet ;  that  I  have  only  to  throw  my  weight  on  my  heel, 
and  I  shall  crush  them !  " 

"  Crush,  Monseigneur,  crush  !  These  are  opportunities 
that  are  not  offered  every  day  ;  and  when  they  come,  it  is 
best  to  seize  them." 

The  regent  reflected  a  moment,  and  in  that  moment  his 
discomposed  features  regained  little  by  little  the  expres- 
sion of  good-nature  which  was  natural  to  them. 

"  Well,"  said  Saint-Simon,  who  observed  in  the  regent's 
countenance  the  reaction  that  was  taking  place,  "I  see 
that  it  will  not  be  for  to-day." 

"  No,  Monsieur  le  Due,"  said  Philippe  ;  "  for  to-day  I 
have  something  better  to  do  than  to  avenge  the  injuries 
of  the  Due  d'Orleans :  I  have  to  save  France."  And 
offering  his  hand  to  Saint-Simon,  the  prince  returned  to 
his  chamber. 

That  evening,  at  nine  o'clock,  the  regent  left  the  Palais 
Royal,  and  contrary  to  his  custom,  went  to  spend  the 
night  at  Versailles. 


390  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 


CHAPTEE  XXXV. 

A   SNAEE. 

The  next  day,  about  seven  o'clock  in  the  morning,  at  the 
time  when  the  king  rose,  an  usher  entered  his  Majesty's 
room  and  announced  that  his  Royal  Highness,  Monseigneur 
le  Due  d'Orleans,  solicited  the  honor  of  assisting  at  his 
toilet.  Louis  XV.,  who  was  not  yet  accustomed  to  decide 
anything  for  himself,  turned  toward  Monsieur  de  Frejus, 
who  was  seated  in  the  least  conspicuous  corner  of  the 
room,  as  if  to  ask  what  he  should  say ;  and  in  reply  to 
this  mute  question,  Monsieur  de  Frejus  not  only  made  a 
sign  with  his  head  signifying  that  it  was  necessary  to 
receive  his  Royal  Highness,  but  rose  immediately  and 
went  himself  to  open  the  door.  The  regent  stopped  a 
minute  on  the  doorstep  to  thank  Fleury;  then  having 
assured  himself  by  a  rapid  glance  round  the  room  that  the 
Marechal  de  Villeroy  had  not  yet  arrived,  he  advanced 
toward  the  king. 

Louis  XV.  was  at  this  time  a  pretty  child,  nine  or  ten 
years  of  age,  with  long  chestnut  hair,  jet-black  eyes,  a 
mouth  like  a  cherry,  and  a  rosy  complexion,  which,  like 
that  of  his  mother,  Marie  de  Savoie,  Duchesse  de  Bour- 
gogne,  was  liable  to  sudden  paleness.  Although  his  char- 
acter was  as  yet  very  irresolute,  thanks  to  the  contradic- 
tory influences  of  the  double  government  of  the  Marechal 
de  Villeroy  and  Monsieur  de  Frejus,  he  had  a  certain  ex- 
pression of  ardor  and  resolution  which  stamped  him  as 
the  great-grandson  of  Louis  XIV.  ;    and  he  had  a  trick  of 


A  SNARE.  391 

putting  on  his  hat  like  him.  Warned  at  first  against  the 
Due  d'Orleans  as  the  man  in  all  France  from  whom  he 
had  most  to  fear,  he  had  felt  that  prejudice  yield  little  by 
little  during  the  interviews  which  they  had  had  together, 
in  which,  with  that  juvenile  instinct  which  so  rarely  is 
deceptive,  he  had  recognized  a  friend. 

On  his  part,  it  must  be  said  that  the  Due  d'Orleans  had 
for  the  king,  besides  the  respect  which  was  his  due,  a  love 
the  most  attentive  and  the  most  tender.  The  small 
amount  of  business  which  could  be  .submitted  to  his 
young  mind  he  always  presented  to  him  with  so  much 
clearness  and  skill  that  a  political  task  which  would  have 
been  wearisome  with  any  one  else  became  a  recreation 
when  pursued  with  the  regent,  so  that  the  royal  child 
always  saw  his  arrival  with  pleasure.  It  must  be  con- 
fessed that  this  work  was  almost  always  rewarded  by  the 
most  beautiful  toys  which  could  be  found,  — toys  which 
Dubois,  in  order  to  pay  his  court  to  the  king,  imported 
from  Germany  and  England.  His  Majesty  therefore  re- 
ceived the  regent  with  his  sweetest  smile,  and  with  a  pecu- 
liar grace  gave  him  his  little  hand  to  kiss,  while  the  Bishop 
of  Frejus,  faithful  to  his  system  of  humility,  had  gone  back 
to  the  corner  where  he  had  been  surprised  by  the  arrival  of 
the  regent. 

"lam  very  glad  to  see  you,  Monsieur,"  said  Louis  XV. 
in  a  sweet  little  voice  and  with  a  childish  smile,  from 
which  the  etiquette  imposed  upon  him  could  not  take 
away  all  grace ;  "  and  the  more  glad  to  see  you  because, 
since  it  is  not  your  usual  hour,  I  presume  that  you  have 
some  good  news  to  tell  me." 

"  Two  items,  Sire,"  answered  the  regent.  "  The  first  is 
that  I  have  just  received  from  Nuremberg  a  chest  which 
seems  to  me  to  contain  —  " 

"  Oh,  toys !   lots   of  toys  !   does  it   not,  Monsieur  le 


392  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

Regent  1 "  cried  the  king,  dancing  joyously,  and  clapping 
his  hands,  regardless  of  his  valet-de-chambre,  who  was 
standing  behind  him,  holding  the  little  sword  with  a  cut- 
steel  handle  which  he  was  going  to  hang  in  the  king's 
belt.  "  Oh,  the  dear  toys  !  the  beautiful  toys  !  how  kind 
you  are  !     Oh,  how  I  love  you,  Monsieur  le  Eegent !  " 

"  Sire,  I  only  do  my  duty/'  answered  the  Due  d'Orleans, 
bowing  respectfully,  "  and  you  owe  me  no  thanks  for  that." 

"And  where  is  it,  Monsieur?  Where  is  this  pretty 
chest?" 

"  In  my  apartments,  Sire  ;  and  if  your  Majesty  wishes 
it  brought  here,  I  will  send  it  during  the  day,  or  to-morrow 
morning." 

"  Oh,  no  !  now,  Monsieur ;  now,  I  beg !  " 

"  But  it  is  in  my  apartments." 

"  Well,  let  us  go  to  your  apartments,"  cried  the  child, 
running  to  the  door,  and  forgetting  that  he  still  needed, 
for  the  completion  of  his  toilet,  his  sword,  his  little  satin 
jacket,  and  his  blue  ribbon. 

"Sire,"  said  Frejus,  advancing,  "I  would  remark  that 
your  Majesty  abandons  yourself  too  entirely  to  the  pleas- 
ure caused  by  the  possession  of  things  that  you  should 
already  regard  as  trifles." 

"Yes,  Monsieur;  yes,  you  are  right,"  said  Louis  XV., 
making  an  effort  to  control  himself.  "  But  you  must  par- 
don me;  I  am  not  yet  ten  years  old,  and  I  worked  hard 
yesterday." 

"That  is  true,"  said  Monsieur  de  Frejus,  smiling; 
"and  therefore  your  Majesty  will  employ  yourself  with 
the  toys  when  you  have  asked  Monsieur  le  Regent  what  is 
the  other  piece  of  news  which  he  came  to  bring  you." 

"Ah,  yes,  Monsieur;  what  is  that  second  item  of 
news  1 " 

"  A  work  which  will  be  profitable  to  France,  and  which 


A  SNAKE.  393 

is  of  so  much  importance  that  I  propose  to  submit  it  to 
your  Majesty." 

"  Have  you  it  here  1 "  asked  the  young  king. 

"  No,  Sire ;  I  did  not  expect  to  find  your  Majesty  so 
well  inclined  to  work,  and  I  left  it  in  my  study." 

"  Well,"  said  Louis  XV.,  turning  half  toward  Monsieur 
de  Frejus,  half  toward  the  regent,  and  looking  at  both  of 
them  with  an  imploring  eye,  "  cannot  we  reconcile  all 
that  1  Instead  of  taking  my  morning  walk,  I  will  go  to 
your  apartments  and  see  the  beautiful  Nuremberg  toys; 
and  when  I  have  seen  them,  we  will  pass  into  your  study 
and  work." 

"It  is  against  etiquette,  Sire,"  answered  the  regent; 
"  but  if  your  Majesty  wishes  it  —  " 

"  Oh,  I  do  wish  it !  — that  is,"  he  added,  turning  and 
looking  at  Frejus  so  sweetly  that  there  was  no  resisting 
him,  "  if  my  good  preceptor  permits  it." 

"  Does  Monsieur  de  Frejus  see  anything  wrong  in  it  1 " 
said  the  regent,  turning  toward  Fleury,  and  pronouncing 
these  wTords  with  an  accent  which  showed  that  the  precep- 
tor would  wound  him  deeply  by  refusing  the  request  which 
his  royal  pupil  made  him. 

"No,  Monseigneur,"  said  Frejus;  "quite  the  contrary. 
It  is  well  that  his  Majesty  should  accustom  himself  to 
work ;  and  if  the  laws  of  etiquette  are  violated,  that  vio- 
lation will  bring  about  a  happy  result  for  the  people.  I 
only  ask  of  Monseigneur  the  permission  to  accompany  his 
Majesty." 

"Certainly,  Monsieur,"  said  the  regent,  "with  the 
greatest  pleasure." 

u  Oh,  how  good !  how  kind ! "  cried  Louis  XV. 
"  Quick  !  my  sword,  my  jacket,  my  blue  ribbon  !  Here  I 
am,  Monsieur  le  Regent ; "  and  he  advanced  to  take  the 
regent's  hand.     But  instead  of  allowing  that  familiarity, 


394  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

the  regent  bowed,  and  opening  the  door,  made  a  sign  to 
the  king  to  precede  him,  and  followed  three  or  four  paces 
behind,  hat  in  hand,  together  with  Frejus. 

The  king's  apartments,  situated  on  the  ground-floor, 
were  on  the  same  level  with  those  of  the  Due  d'Orleans, 
and  were  separated  from  them  only  by  an  antechamber 
opening  into  the  king's  rooms,  and  a  gallery  leading  thence 
to  the  antechamber  of  the  regent.  The  distance  was 
short,  therefore,  and  —  as  the  king  was  in  haste  to  arrive 
—  they  found  themselves  in  an  instant  in  a  large  cabinet 
lighted  by  four  windows,  all  forming  doors,  which  opened 
into  the  garden.  This  large  cabinet  led  to  a  smaller  one, 
where  the  regent  generally  worked,  and  to  which  he 
brought  his  most  intimate  friends  and  his  favorites.  All 
his  Highness's  court  was  in  attendance,  —  a  very  natural 
circumstance,  since  it  was  the  hour  for  rising.  The  young 
king  therefore  did  not  notice  either  Monsieur  d'Artagnan, 
captain  of  the  Gray  Musketeers,  or  the  Marquis  de  Lafare, 
captain  of  the  Guards,  or  a  very  considerable  number  of 
the  Light-Horse,  who  were  drawn  up  outside  the  windows ; 
but  on  a  table  in  the  middle  of  the  room  he  saw  the  wel- 
come chest,  the  great  size  of  which  caused  him,  in  spite 
of  the  somewhat  chilling  exhortation  of  Monsieur  de 
Frejus,  to  give  a  cry  of  joy. 

However,  he  was  obliged  to  contain  himself,  and  receive 
as  king  the  homage  of  Monsieur  d'Artagnan  and  Monsieur 
de  Lafare.  Meanwhile  the  regent  had  called  two  valets-de- 
chamhre,  who  quickly  opened  the  lid  and  displayed  the 
most  splendid  collection  of  toys  which  had  ever  dazzled 
the  eyes  of  a  king  nine  years  old.  At  this  tempting  sight 
the  king  forgot  alike  preceptor,  etiquette,  captain  of  the 
Guards,  and  captain  of  the  Gray  Musketeers.  He  has- 
tened toward  this  paradise  which  was  opened  to  him,  and 
as  if  from  an  inexhaustible  mine,  from  a  fairy  casket,  from 


A  SNARE.  395 

a  treasury  of  the  "  Arabian  Nights/'  he  drew  out  succes- 
sively clocks,  three-deckers,  squadrons  of  cavalry,  battalions 
of  infantry,  pedlers  with  their  packs,  jugglers  with  their 
cups,  —  in  short,  all  those  wonders  which,  on  Christmas 
Eve,  turn  the  heads  of  children  beyond  the  Rhine,  —  and 
with  such  undisguised  transports  of  joy  that  Monsieur  de 
Frejus  himself  respected  his  royal  pupil's  happiness.  The 
spectators  watched  him  with  that  religious  silence  which 
attends  great  griefs  or  great  joys.  The  silence  was  inter- 
rupted by  a  violent  noise  in  the  antechamber. 

The  door  was  opened.  An  usher  announced  the  Due 
de  Villeroy,  and  the  marshal  appeared,  loudly  demanding 
to  see  the  king.  As  they  were,  however,  accustomed  to 
such  proceedings,  the  regent  merely  pointed  to  his  Majesty, 
who  was  still  continuing  to  empty  the  chest,  covering  the 
furniture  and  floor  with  the  splendid  toys  which  he  drew 
from  the  inexhaustible  receptacle. 

The  marshal  had  no  ground  for  complaint ;  he  was 
nearly  an  hour  late,  and  the  king  was  with  Monsieur  Fre- 
jus, his  colleague ;  but  none  the  less  he  grumbled  as  he 
approached  the  king,  and  threw  around  glances  which 
seemed  to  say  that  if  his  Majesty  was  in  any  danger  he 
was  there  to  defend  him. 

The  regent  exchanged  a  significant  glance  with  Lafare, 
and  an  almost  imperceptible  smile  with  D'Artagnan  ;  the 
affair  was  progressing  favorably. 

The  chest  was  emptied ;  and  after  having  allowed  the 
king  to  enjoy  for  an  instant  the  sight  of  all  his  treasures, 
the  regent  approached  him,  and,  still  hat  in  hand,  recalled 
to  his  mind  the  promise  he  had  made  to  devote  an  hour 
to  the  consideration  of  State  affairs. 

Louis  XV.,  with  that  scrupulousness  which  afterward 
led  him  to  declare  that  punctuality  was  the  politeness  of 
kings,  threw  a  last  glance  over  his  toys,  asked  permission 


396  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

to-  have  them  removed  to  his  apartments,  and  advanced 
toward  the  little  cabinet,  the  door  of  which  was  opened 
by  the  regent.  Then,  acting  in  accordance  with  their 
respective  characters,  Monsieur  de  Fleury,  under  pretext 
of  his  dislike  of  politics,  drew  back  and  sat  down  in  a 
corner,  while  the  marshal  darted  forward,  and  seeing  the 
king  enter  the  cabinet,  tried  to  follow  him.  This  was  the 
moment  that  the  regent  had  impatiently  expected. 

"  Pardon,  Monsieur  le  Marechal,"  said  he,  barring  the 
passage  ;  "  but  I  wish  to  speak  to  his  Majesty  on  affairs 
which  demand  the  most  absolute  secrecy,  and  I  beg,  there- 
fore, that  you  will  allow  me  to  remain  a  moment  with  him 
in  private." 

"  In  private  !  "  cried  Yilleroy ;  "in  private  !  You 
know,   Monseigneur,   that  it  is  impossible." 

"  Impossible,  Monsieur  le  Marechal !  "  replied  the  regent, 
with  the  greatest  coolness  ;  "  impossible  !  and  why,  if  you 
please  1 " 

"  Because,  as  governor  to  his  Majesty,  I  have  the  right 
to  accompany  him  everywhere." 

"  In  the  first  place,  Monsieur,"  replied  the  regent,  "  this 
right  does  not  appear  to  me  to  rest  on  any  very  positive 
foundation ;  and  if  I  have  till  now  tolerated,  not  this 
right,  but  this  pretension,  it  is  because  the  age  of  the 
king  has  hitherto  rendered  it  unimportant.  But  now  that 
his  Majesty  approaches  his  tenth  year,  and  that  I  am  per- 
mitted to  begin  instructing  him  in  the  science  of  govern- 
ment, in  which  I  am  his  appointed  preceptor,  you  will  see 
that  it  is  quite  right  that  I,  as  well  as  Monsieur  de  Frejus 
and  yourself,  should  be  allowed  some  hours  of  private  in- 
tercourse with  his  Majesty.  This  will  be  less  painful  to 
you  to  grant,  Marshal,"  added  the  regent,  with  a  smile, 
the  expression  of  which  it  was  impossible  to  mistake, 
"  because,  having  studied  these  matters  so  much  yourself, 


A  SNARE.  397 

it  is  impossible  that  you  can  have  anything  left  to 
learn." 

"  But,  Monsieur,"  said  the  marshal,  as  usual  forgetting 
his  politeness  as  he  became  warm,  "  I  beg  to  remind  you 
that  the  king  is  my  pupil." 

"  I  know  it,  Monsieur,"  said  the  regent,  in  the  same 
tone  of  raillery  which  he  had  assumed  at  the  beginning  of 
the  conversation.  "  Make  of  his  Majesty  a  great  captain ; 
I  do  not  wish  to  prevent  you.  Your  campaigns  in  Italy 
and  Flanders  prove  that  he  could  not  have  a  better  mas- 
ter ;  but  at  this  moment,  Monsieur  le  Marechal,  there  is 
no  question  of  military  science.  It  is  a  matter  involving 
a  State  secret,  which  can  be  confided  to  his  Majesty  only ; 
therefore  you  will  not  be  displeased  if  I  renewedly  express 
my  desire  to  speak  with  the  king  in  private." 

"  Impossible,  Monseigneur,  impossible  !  "  cried  the 
marshal,   forgetting  himself  more  and  more. 

"  Impossible  !  "  replied  the  regent ;  "  and  why  1 " 

"  Why  1 "  continued  the  marshal ;  "  because  my  duty  is 
not  to  lose  sight  of  the  king  for  a  moment,  and  because  I 
will  not  permit  —  " 

"Take  care,  Monsieur  le  Marechal,"  interrupted  the 
Due  d'Orleans,  haughtily ;  "  I  think  you  are  about  to 
forget  your  proper  respect  toward  me." 

"  Monseigneur,"  continued  the  marshal,  becoming  more 
and  more  angry,  "I  know  the  respect  which  I  owe  to 
your  Royal  Highness,  and  I  also  know  what  I  owe  to  my 
charge,  and  to  the  king ;  and  for  that  reason  I  will  not  lose 
sight  of  his  Majesty  for  an  instant,  inasmuch  as  —  " 

The  duke  hesitated. 

"  Well,  finish,  Monsieur,"  said  the  regent. 

"  Inasmuch  as  I  answer  for  his  person,"  said  the  marshal, 
who,  urged  on  by  that  challenge,  did  not  wish  to  have  the 
appearance  of  backing  out. 


398  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

At  this  abandonment  of  all  restraint  there  was  a  mo* 
nient's  silence,  during  which  nothing  was  heard  but  the 
mutterings  of  the  marshal,  and  the  stifled  sighs  of  Mon- 
sieur de  Fleury. 

As  to  the  Due  d'Orleans,  he  raised  his  head  with  a  smile 
of  sovereign  contempt,  and  assuming  that  air  of  dignity 
which  made  him,  when  he  chose,  one  of  the  most  im- 
posing princes  in  the  world,  "  Monsieur  de  Villeroy,"  said 
he,  "  you  mistake  me  strangely,  it  appears,  and  imagine 
that  you  are  speaking  to  some  one  else.  But  since  you 
forget  who  I  am,  I  must  endeavor  to  remind  you.  Marquis 
de  Lafare,"  continued  he,  addressing  his  captain  of  the 
Guards,  "do  your  duty." 

Then  the  Marechal  de  Villeroy,  seeing  on  what  a  preci- 
pice he  stood,  opened  his  mouth  to  attempt  an  excuse, 
but  the  regent  left  him  no  time  to  finish  his  sentence,  and 
shut  the  door  in  his  face. 

The  Marquis  de  Lafare  instantly  approached  the  marshal, 
and  demanded  his  sword.  The  marshal  remained  for  an 
instant  as  if  thunderstruck.  He  had  for  so  long  a  time 
been  left  undisturbed  in  his  impertinence  that  he  had 
begun  to  think  himself  invincible.  He  tried  to  speak, 
but  his  voice  failed  him  ;  and  on  the  second  and  still  more 
imperative  demand,  he  gave  up  his  sword.  At  the  same 
moment  a  door  opens,  and  a  chair  appears.  Two  mus- 
keteers push  the  marshal  into  it ;  it  is  closed.  D'Artagnan 
and  Lafare  place  themselves  at  each  side,  and  in  the 
twinkling  of  an  eye  the  prisoner  is  carried  out  through  a 
window  opening  on  the  gardens.  The  Light-Horse  fol- 
low ;  and  at  a  considerable  and  increasing  speed  they 
descend  the  staircase,  turn  to  the  left  and  enter  the 
orangery.  There  the  suite  remain ;  and  the  chair,  its 
porters,  and  tenant,  enter  a  second  room,  accompanied 
only  by  Lafare  and  D'Artagnan. 


A  SNARE.  399 

All  this  had  taken  place  so  quickly  that  the  marshal, 
not  distinguished  for  steadiness  of  nerve,  had  not  had 
time  to  recover  himself.  He  had  found  himself  disarmed  ; 
he  had  been  carried  away ;  he  was  shut  up  with  two  men 
who,  as  he  was  aware,  professed  no  great  friendship  for 
him,  and  always  exaggerating  his  importance,  he  con- 
cluded that  he  was  lost. 

"  Gentlemen,"  he  cried,  turning  pale,  while  perspiration 
and  powder  ran  down  his  face,  "  I  hope  I  am  not  going 
to  be  assassinated  !  " 

"  No,  Monsieur  le  Marechal,  don't  be  alarmed,"  said 
Lafare,  while  D'Artagnan  could  not  help  laughing  at  his 
ridiculous  figure ;  "  something  much  more  simple,  and 
infinitely  less  tragic." 

11  What  is  it,  then  1 "  asked  the  marshal,  to  whom  this 
assurance  restored   some  tranquillity. 

"There  are  two  letters,  Monsieur,  which  you  were  to 
have  given  to  the  king  this  morning,  and  which  you  must 
have  in  one  of  your  pockets." 

The  marshal,  who  till  that  moment,  in  his  anxiety 
about  himself,  had  forgotten  Madame  du  Maine's  affairs, 
started,  and  raised  his  hand  to  the  pocket  where  the  let- 
ters were. 

"  Pardon,  Monsieur  le  Due,"  said  D'Artagnan,  stopping 
his  hand,  "  but  we  are  authorized  to  inform  you,  in  case 
you  should  feel  inclined  to  remove  these  letters,  that  the 
regent  has  copies  of  them." 

"I  may  add,"  said  Lafare,  "that  we  are  authorized  to 
take  them  by  force,  and  are  absolved  in  advance  from  all 
accidents  that  may  happen  in  any  struggle  that  may 
ensue,  supposing,  which  is  not  probable,  that  you  should 
wish,  Monsieur  le  Marechal,  to  push  rebellion  so  far  as  that." 

"  And  you  assure  me,"  said  the  marshal,  "  that  the 
regent  has  copies  of  these  letters?" 


400  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

"  On  my  word  of  honor,"  said  D'Artagnan. 

"  In  that  case,"  replied  Villeroy,  "  I  do  not  see  why  I 
should  prevent  you  from  taking  these  letters,  which  do 
not  concern  me  in  the  least,  and  which  I  undertook  to 
deliver  to  oblige  others." 

"We  are  aware  of  that,  Monsieur  le  Marshal,"  said 
Lafare. 

"  But,"  added  the  marshal,  "  I  hope  you  will  inform 
his  Royal  Highness  of  the  readiness  with  which  I  sub- 
mitted to  his  orders,  and  of  my  regret  for  having  oifended 
him  1  * 

"  Do  not  doubt  it,  Monsieur  le  Marechal ;  all  will  be 
reported  as  it  has  taken  place.     But  these  letters  1 " 

"Here  they  are,  Monsieur,"  said  the  marshal,  giving 
two  letters  to  Lafare. 

Lafare  assured  himself  by  the  seals  that  they  were  really 
the  letters  he  was  in  search  of.  "My  dear  D'Artagnan," 
said  he,  "  now  conduct  the  marshal  to  his  destination,  and 
give  orders,  in  the  name  of  the  regent,  that  he  is  to  be 
treated  with  every  respect." 

The  chair  was  closed,  and  the  porters  carried  it  off.  At 
the  gate  of  the  gardens  a  carriage  with  six  horses  was 
waiting,  in  which  they  placed  the  marshal,  who  now 
began  to  suspect  the  trap  which  had  been  laid  for  him. 
D'Artagnan  seated  himself  by  him,  an  officer  of  musket- 
eers and  Du  Libois,  one  of  the  king's  gentlemen,  opposite ; 
and  attended  by  twenty  musketeers,  —  four  at  each  side, 
and  twelve  following,  —  the  carriage  set  off  at  a  gallop. 

Meanwhile  the  Marquis  de  Lafare  returned  to  the 
chateau  with  the  two  letters  of  Philip  V.  in  his  hand. 


THE  BEGINNING  OF  THE  END.  401 


CHAPTEE  XXXVI. 

THE    BEGINNING   OF    THE   END. 

The  same  day,  toward  two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  while 
D'Harmental,  profiting  by  Buvat's  absence,  who  was  sup- 
posed to  be  at  the  library,  was  repeating  to  Bathilde  for 
the  thousandth  time  that  he  loved  her,  Nanette  entered, 
and  announced  that  some  one  was  waiting  in  his  own 
room  on  important  business.  D'Harmental,  anxious  to 
know  who  could  be  this  importunate  visitor,  pursuing 
him  even  to  the  paradise  of  his  love,  went  to  the  window 
and  saw  the  Abbe  Brigaud  walking  up  and  down  in  his 
room.  D'Harmental  instantly  took  leave  of  Bathilde, 
and  went  up  to  his  own  apartments. 

"  Well,"  said  the  abbe,  "  while  you  are  quietly  making 
love  to  your  neighbor,  fine  things  are  happening." 

"What  things?"  asked  D'Harmental. 

"  Do  you  not  know  1 " 

"  I  know  absolutely  nothing,  except  that  —  unless  what 
you  have  to  tell  me  is  of  the  greatest  importance  —  I 
should  like  to  strangle  you  for  having  disturbed  me ;  so 
take  care,  and  if  you  have  no  news  worthy  of  the  occa- 
sion, invent  some." 

"  Unfortunately,"  replied  the  abbe,  "  the  reality  leaves 
little  to  the  imagination." 

"  Indeed,  my  dear  Brigaud,"  said  D'Harmental,  regard- 
ing the  abbe*  more  closely,  "  you  seem  to  be  in  a  terrible 
fright.     What  has  happened  %     Tell  me." 

"  What  has  happened  1  Oh,  nothing  worth  mention- 
ing,—  only  that   we  have  been  sold  out  by  some  one; 

26 


402  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

that  the  Marechal  de  Villeroy  was  arrested  this  morning 
at  Versailles,  and  that  the  two  letters  from  Philip  V., 
which  he  was  to  give  to  the  king,  are  in  the  hands  of 
the  regent/' 

D'Harmental  perfectly  understood  the  gravity  of  the 
situation,  but  his  face  exhibited  the  calmness  which  was 
habitual  to  him  in  moments  of  danger. 

"  Is  that  all?  "  he  asked  quietly. 

"  All  for  the  present ;  and  if  you  do  not  think  it 
enough,  you  are  difficult  to  satisfy." 

il  My  dear  Abbe,"  said  D'Harmental,  u  when  we  entered ' 
on  this  conspiracy  it  was  with  almost  equal  chances  of 
success  and  failure.     Yesterday  our  chances  were  ninety 
to  a  hundred  ;  to-day  they  are  only  thirty,  —  that  is  all." 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  that  you  do  not  easily  allow  yourself 
to  be  discouraged/'  said  Brigaud. 

"  My  dear  Abbe,"  said  D'Harmental,  "  at  this  moment  T 
am  a  happy  man,  and  I  see  everything  on  the  bright  side. 
If  you  had  taken  me  in  a  moment  of  sadness,  it  would 
have  been  quite  the  reverse,  and  I  should  have  replied 
'Amen'  to  your  *'De  Profundis.' " 

u  And  your  opinion  1 " 

"  Is  that  the  game  is  becoming  perplexed,  but  is  not  yet 
lost.  The  Marechal  de  Villeroy  is  not  of  the  conspiracy, 
does  not  even  know  the  names  of  the  conspirators. 
Philip  V.'s  letters  —  as  far  as  I  remember  them  —  do  not 
name  anybody ;  and  the  only  person  really  compromised  is 
the  Prince  de  Cellamare.  The  inviolability  of  his  office  pro- 
tects him  from  any  real  danger.  Besides,  if  Our  plan  has 
reached  the  Cardinal  Alberoni,  Monsieur  de  Saint- Aignan 
must  serve  as  hostage." 

"  There  is  truth  in  what  you  say." 

"And  from  whom  have  you  this  news?"  asked  the 
chevalier. 


THE  BEGINNING  OF  THE  END.  403 

"From  Valef,  who  had  it  from  Madame  du  Maine, 
who,  on  receipt  of  the  news,  went  to  the  Prince  de  Cella- 
mare  himself." 

"We  must  see  Valef." 

11 1  have  appointed  him  to  meet  me  here,  and  on  my 
way  I  stopped  at  the  Marquis  de  Pompadour's.  I  am 
astonished  that  he  is  not  here  before  me." 

*'  Raoul ! "  said  a  voice  on  the  staircase. 

"  Stay,  it  is  he  ! "  cried  D'Harmental,  running  to  the 
door  and  opening  it. 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Valef,  "  for  your  assistance,  which 
is  very  seasonable,  for  I  was  just  going  away,  convinced 
that  Brigaud  must  have  made  a  mistake,  and  that  no 
Christian  could  live  at  such  a  height,  and  in  such  a 
pigeon-hole.  I  must  certainly  bring  Madame  du  Maine 
here,  that  she  may  know  what  she  owes  you." 

"God  grant,"  said  the  Abbe  Brigaud,  "that  we  may 
not  all  be  worse  lodged  a  few  days  hence !  " 

"  Ah,  you  mean  the  Bastille  !  It  is  possible,  Abbe  ; 
but  at  least  one  does  not  go  to  the  Bastille  of  one's  own 
accord.  Moreover,  it  is  a  royal  lodging,  which  raises  it 
a  little,  and  makes  it  a  place  where  a  gentleman  may 
live  without  degradation ;  but  a  place  like  this  —  fie, 
Abbe  ! " 

u  If  you  knew  what  I  have  found  here,"  said  D'Har- 
mental,  a  little  piqued,  "  you  would  be  as  unwilling  to 
leave  it  as  I  am." 

"  Ah,  some  little  bourgeoise,  —  some  Madame  Michelin, 
perhaps.  Take  care,  D'Harmental ;  these  things  are 
allowed  only  to  Richelieu.  With  you  and  me,  who  are 
perhaps  worth  as  much  as  he  is,  but  are  unfortunately 
not  quite  so  much  in  fashion,  it  will  not  do." 

"  Well,"  said  the  Abbe  Brigaud,  "  although  your  con- 
versation is  somewhat  frivolous,  I  hear  it  with  pleasure, 


404  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

since  it  assures  me  that  our  affairs  are  not  in  so  bad  a 
plight  as  I  thought." 

"On  the  contrary,  the  conspiracy  is  gone  to  the  devil." 

"  What  are  you  saying,  Baron  %  "  cried  Brigaud. 

"  I  scarcely  thought  they  would  leave  me  time  to  bring 
you  the  news." 

"Were  you  nearly  arrested  then,  my  dear  ValeH " 
asked  D'Harmental. 

"  I  escaped  only  by  a  hair's  breadth." 

"  How  did  it  happen,  Baron  1 " 

"You  remember,  Abbe,  that  I  left  you  to  go  to  the 
Prince  de  Cellamare  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"Well,  I  was  there  when  they  came  to  seize  his  papers." 

"  Have  they  seized  the  prince's  papers  1 "  cried  Brigaud. 

"AH  except  what  we  burned,  which  unfortunately  were 
the  smaller  number." 

"  Then  we  are  all  lost,"  said  the  abbe. 

"  Why,  my  dear  Abbe,  how  you  throw  the  helve  after 
the  hatchet !  " 

"  But,  Yalef,  you  have  not  told  us  how  it  happened," 
said  D'Harmental. 

"  My  dear  Chevalier,  imagine  the  most  ridiculous  thing 
in  the  world.  I  wish  you  had  been  there;  we  should 
have  laughed  to  kill  ourselves.  It  would  have  enraged 
that  fellow  Dubois." 

"  What !  was  Dubois  himself  at  the  ambassador's  1 " 

"In  person,  Abbe.  Imagine  the  Prince  de  Cellamare 
and  myself  quietly  sitting  by  the  corner  of  the  fire,  taking 
out  letters  from  a  little  casket,  and  burning  those  which 
seemed  to  deserve  the  honors  of  an  auto-da-fe,  when  all  at 
once  his  valet-de-chambre  enters,  and  announces  that  the 
hotel  of  the  embassy  is  invested  by  a  body  of  musketeers, 
and  that  Dubois  and  Leblanc  wish  to  speak  to  him.     The 


THE  BEGINNING  OF  THE  END.  405 

object  of  this  visit  is  not  difficult  to  guess.  The  prince  — 
■without  taking  the  trouble  to  choose  —  empties  the  casket 
into  the  fire,  pushes  me  into  a  dressing-closet,  and  orders 
that  they  shall  be  admitted.  The  order  was  useless ; 
Dubois  and  Leblanc  were  at  the  door.  Fortunately, 
neither  one  nor  the  other  had  seen  me/' 

"  Well,  I  see  nothing  droll  as  yet,"  said  Brigaud. 

"  This  is  just  where  it  begins,"  replied  Valef.  "  Remem- 
ber that  I  was  in  the  closet,  seeing  and  hearing  everything. 
Dubois  entered,  stretching  out  his  weasel's  head  to  watch 
the  Prince  de  Cellamare,  who,  wrapped  in  his  dressing- 
gown,  stood  before  the  fire  to  give  the  papers  time  to 
burn. 

"  '  Monsieur,'  said  the  prince,  in  that  phlegmatic  manner 
you  know  he  has,  '  may  I  know  to  what  event  I  owe  the 
honor  of  this  visit  ? y 

"  \  Oh,  mon  Dieu,  Monseigneur  ! '  said  Dubois,  f  to  a 
very  simple  thing,  —  a  desire  which  Monsieur  Leblanc  and 
I  had  to  learn  a  little  of  your  papers,  of  which,'  he  added, 
showing  the  letters  of  Philip  V.,  '  these  two  samples  have 
given  us  a  foretaste.' " 

"  What ! "  said  Brigaud,  "  these  letters,  seized  at  ten 
o'clock  at  Versailles,  are  in  Dubois's  hands  at  one  o'clock  ] " 

"  As  you  say,  Abbe.  You  see  that  they  travelled  faster 
than  if  they  had  been  put  in  the  post." 

"And  what  did  the  ambassador  say  then?"  inquired 
D'Har  mental. 

"  Oh,  the  prince  wished  to  carry  it  off  with  a  high  hand, 
by  appealing  to  his  rights  as  an  envoy ;  but  Dubois,  who 
is  something  of  a  logician,  showed  him  that  he  had  him- 
self somewhat  violated  these  rights,  by  covering  the  con- 
spiracy with  his  ambassador's  cloak.  In  short,  as  the  prince 
was  the  weakest,  he  was  obliged  to  submit  to  what  he  could 
not  prevent.    Besides,  Leblanc,  without  asking  permission, 


406  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

had  already  opened  the  desk  and  examined  its  contents, 
while  Dubois  drew  out  the  drawers  of  a  bureau,  and  rum- 
maged in  them.  All  at  once  Cellamare  left  his  place  ;  and 
stopping  Leblanc,  who  had  just  taken  a  packet  of  papers 
tied  with  red  ribbon,  he  said,  — 

" '  Pardon,  Monsieur ;  to  each  one  his  prerogatives. 
These  are  ladies'  letters.' 

"  '  Thanks  for  your  confidence,'  said  Dubois,  not  in  the 
least  disconcerted,  but  rising  and  taking  the  papers  from 
the  hand  of  Leblanc,  *■  I  am  accustomed  to  secrets  of  this 
kind,  and  yours  shall  be  well  kept/ 

"  At  this  moment,  looking  toward  the  fire,  he  saw  —  in 
the  midst  of  the  burnt  letters  —  a  paper  still  untouched ; 
and  darting  toward  it,  he  seized  it  just  as  the  flames  were 
reaching  it.  The  movement  was  so  rapid  that  the  ambas- 
sador could  not  prevent  it,  and  the  paper  was  in  Dubois's 
hands. 

" '  Peste ! '  said  the  prince,  seeing  Dubois  shaking  his 
fingers,  '  I  knew  that  the  regent  had  skilful  spies,  but 
I  did  not  know  that  they  were  brave  enough  to  go  into 
the  fire.' 

" '  Well,  Prince,'  said  Dubois,  unfolding  the  paper, '  they 
are  well  rewarded  for  their  bravery.     See.' 

"  The  prince  cast  his  eyes  over  the  paper ;  I  don't  know 
what  it  contained,  but  I  know  that  the  prince  turned  pale 
as  death;  and  that  as  Dubois  burst  out  laughing,  Cella- 
mare, in  a  moment  of  wrath,  broke  into  a  thousand  pieces 
a  little  marble  statue  which  was  near  his  hand. 

" '  I  am  glad  it  was  not  I,'  said  Dubois,  coldly,  looking 
at  the  pieces  which  rolled  at  his  feet,  and  putting  the 
paper  in  his  pocket. 

"  \  Every  one  in  turn,  Monsieur ;  Heaven  is  just ! '  said 
the  ambassador. 

" '  Meanwhile,'  said  Dubois,  '  as  we  have  got  what  we 


THE  BEGINNING  OF  THE  END.  407 

wanted,  and  have  no  time  to  lose  to-day,  we  will  set  about 
affixing  the  seals/ 

"  '  The  seals  here  ! '  cried  the  ambassador,  exasperated. 
"  '  With  your  permission,'  replied  Dubois.     '  Proceed, 
Monsieur  Leblanc/ 

"  Leblanc  drew  out  from  a  bag  bands  and  wax,  all  pre- 
pared. They  began  operations  with  the  deslf  and  the 
bureau,  then  they  advanced  toward  the  door  of  my  closet. 

"  '  No,'  cried  the  prince,  '  I  will  not  permit  — ' 

" '  Gentlemen/  said  Dubois,  opening  the  door,  and  in- 
troducing into  the  room  two  officers  of  musketeers,  '  the 
ambassador  of  Spain  is  accused  of  high  treason  against 
the  State.  Have  the  kindness  to  accompany  him  to  the 
carriage  which  is  waiting,  and  take  him  —  you  know 
where ;  if  he  resists,  call  eight  men,  and  take  him  by 
force.' " 

"  Well,  and  what  did  the  prince  do  then  1 "  asked 
Brigaud. 

"  What  you  would  have  done  in  his  place,  I  presume,  my 
dear  Abbe.  He  followed  the  two  officers,  and  five  minutes 
afterward  your  humble  servant  found  himself  under  seal." 

"  Poor  Baron  ! "  cried  D'Harmental ;  "  and  how  the 
devil  did  you  get  out?" 

"  That  is  the  beauty  of  it.  Hardly  had  the  prince  gone, 
leaving  me  under  seal,  when  Dubois  called  the  valet-de- 
chambre. 

"  *  What  is  your  name  1 '  asked  Dubois. 

"  '  Lapierre,  at  your  service,  Monseigneur., 

" '  My  dear  Leblanc,'  said  Dubois,  '  explain,  if  you 
please,  to  Monsieur  Lapierre,  what  are  the  penalties  for 
breaking  seals/ 

" '  The  galleys/  replied  Leblanc,  in  that  pleasant  tone 
that  you  know  belongs  to  him. 

" '  My  dear  Monsieur  Lapierre/  continued  Dubois,  in 


408  LE  CHEVALIER   D'HARMENTAL. 

a  voice  as  sweet  as  honey,  l  you  hear.  If  you  would  like 
to  spend  a  few  days  rowing  on  one  of  his  Majesty's  ves- 
sels, touch  one  of  these  seals,  and  your  object  is  gained. 
If,  on  the  contrary,  a  hundred  louis  are  agreeable  to  you, 
guard  faithfully  the  seals  that  we  have  placed,  and  in 
three  days  the  money  shall  be  given  you/ 

"  *  I  prefer  the  hundred  louis/  said  the  scoundrel. 

"  *  Well,  then,  sign  this  paper.  We  constitute  you 
guardian  of  the  prince's  cabinet.' 

"  '  I  am  at  your  orders,  Monseigneur,'  replied  Lapierre ; 
and  he  signed. 

"  '  Now/  said  Dubois,  '  you  understand  all  the  respon- 
sibility you  have  undertaken  1 ' 

"  '  Yes,  Monseigneur/ 

"<  And  submit  to  it  V 

* '  I  do.' 

" '  Now,  Leblanc/  said  Dubois,  *  we  have  nothing  fur- 
ther to  do  here,  and/  he  added,  showing  the  paper  which 
he  had  snatched  from  the  fire,  '  I  have  all  I  wanted.' 

'*  And  having  said  these  words,  he  left,  followed  by 
Leblanc. 

"  Lapierre,  as  soon  as  he  had  seen  them  off,  ran  to  the 
cabinet,  and  exclaimed,  '  Quick,  Monsieur  le  Baron !  you 
must  take  advantage  of  our  solitude  and  leave.' 

"  '  You  knew,  then,  that  I  was  here,  you  rascal  1 ' 

" '  Of  course  !  I  should  n't  have  accepted  the  office  of 
guardian  if  I  had  n't  known  you  were  here.  I  saw  you  go 
in,  and  I  thought  you  would  not  like  to  stay  there  for 
three  days.' 

"  '  And  you  were  right ;  a  hundred  louis  for  your  good 
idea.' 

"  '  Mori  Dieu  /  what  are  you  doing  1 '  cried  Lapierre. 

" '  I  am  trying  to  get  out/ 

"  "  Oh,  not  by  the  door  !     You  would  not  send  a  poor 


THE  BEGINNING  OF  THE  END.  409 

fellow  to  the  galleys;  besides,  they  have  taken  the  key 
with  them.' 

"  '  And'  where  am  I  to  get  out,  then  %  * 
"  '  Raise  your  head.' 
" '  It  is  raised/ 
"  '  Look  in  the  air.' 

a  '  I  am  looking.' 

"  ■  To  your  right.     Do  you  not  see  anything  ?  f 

"  '  Yes,  a  little  window/ 

" '  Well,  get  on  a  chair,  on  a  table,  on  anything  you 
find  ;  the  window  opens  into  the  alcove.  There,  let  your- 
self slip  now ;  you  will  fall  on  the  bed,  —  that  is  it.  You 
have  not  hurt  yourself,  Monsieur  1 ' 

"  *  No.  The  prince  had  a  very  nice  bed  here,  upon  my 
word.  I  hope  he  will  have  one  as  comfortable  where  they 
are  taking  him.' 

"  '  And  I  hope  meanwhile  that  Monsieur  le  Baron  will 
not  forget  the  service  I  have  rendered  him.' 

"  '  Oh,  the  hundred  louis  1  Well,  as  I  do  not  want  to 
part  with  money  at  this  moment,  take  this  ring ;  it  is  worth 
three  hundred  pistoles,  —  you  gain  six  hundred  francs  on 
the  bargain.' 

" '  Monsieur  le  Baron  is  the  most  generous  gentleman 
I  know.' 

"  *  Now,  tell  me  how  I  can  get  away.' 

"  '  By  this  little  staircase ;  you  will  find  yourself  in  the 
pantry.  You  must  then  go  through  the  kitchen  into  the 
garden,  and  go  out  by  the  little  door.' 

"  '  Thanks  for  the  itinerary.' 

"  I  followed  the  instructions  of  Monsieur  Lapierre  ex- 
actly, and  here  I  am." 

"  And  the  prince,  where  is  he  %  "  asked  the  chevalier. 

"  How  do  I  know  1     In  prison  probably." 

"  Diahle  !  diable  /  diable  /"  said  Brigaud. 


410  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

"  Well,  what  do  you  say  to  my  Odyssey,  Abbe  1 " 

"  I  say  that  it  would  be  very  droll,  but  for  that  cursed 
paper  which  Dubois  picked  out  of  the  cinders." 

"Yes,"  said  Yalef,  "  that  spoils  it." 

"  And  you  have  not  any  idea  what  it  could  be  1  * 

"  Not  the  least ;  but  never  mind,  it  is  not  lost,  —  we 
shall  know  some  day  what  it  was." 

At  this  moment  they  heard  some  one  coming  up  the 
staircase.     The  door  opened,  and  Boniface  appeared. 

"  Pardon,  Monsieur  Eaoul,"  said  he ;  "  but  it  is  not  you 
I  seek,  it  is  Papa  Brigaud." 

"  Never  mind,  my  dear  Boniface,  you  are  welcome.  My 
dear  Baron,  allow  me  to  present  to  you  my  predecessor  in 
this  chamber,  —  the  son  of  my  worthy  landlady,  Madame 
Denis,  and  godson  of  our  good  friend  the  Abbe*  Brigaud." 

"  Oh,  you  have  barons  for  friends,  Monsieur  Eaoul ! 
What  an  honor  for  our  house  ! " 

"  Well,"  said  the  abbe,  "  you  were  looking  for  me,  you 
said.     What  do  you  want  %  " 

"  I  want  nothing.    It  was  my  mother  who  sent  for  you." 

"  What  does  she  want  %     Do  you  know  % " 

"  Of  course  I  know.  She  wants  to  ask  you  why  the 
parliament  is  to  assemble  to-morrow." 

u  The  parliament  assembles  to-morrow !  "  cried  Valef 
and  D'Harmental. 

"  And  for  what  purpose  ? "  asked  Brigaud. 

"  Ah,  that  is  just  what  bothers  her,  that  poor  woman." 

"And  where  did  your  mother  hear  that  the  parliament 
is  to  assemble  1 " 

"  I  told  her." 

"  Aud  where  did  you  hear  of  it  1 " 

"  At  the  office.  Maitre  Joullu  was  with  the  president 
when  the  order  arrived." 

"  Well,  tell  your  mother  I  will  come  to  her  directly." 


THE  BEGINNING  OF  THE  END.  411 

"  Sufficit;  she  will  expect  you.  Adieu,  Monsieur  Raoul ; 
adieu,  Monsieur  le  Baron."  And  Monsieur  Boniface  went 
out,  far  from  suspecting  the  effect  he  had  produced  on  his 
listeners. 

"  It  is  some  coup-d'etat  which  is  preparing/*  murmured 
D'Harmental. 

"  I  will  go  to  Madame  du  Maine  to  warn  her,"  said 
Valef. 

"  And  I  to  Pompadour  for  news,"  said  Brigaud. 

"  And  I,"  said  D'Harmental,  "  remain  here.  If  I  am 
wanted,  Abbe,  you  know  where  I  am." 

"  But  if  you  should  not  be  at  home,  Chevalier  1 " 

"Oh,  I  shall  not  be  far  off.  Open  the  window,  clap 
your  hands,  and  I  will  come." 

Valef  and  Brigaud  went  away  together,  and  D'Harmen- 
tal went  back  to  Bathilde,  whom  he  found  very  uneasy. 
It  was  five  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  and  Buvat  was  still 
absent ;  it  was  the  first  time  such  a  thing  had  happened 
within  the  young  girl's  remembrance. 


412  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 


CHAPTEE    XXXVII. 

THE   BED    OF   JUSTICE. 

The  following  day,  about  seven  o'clock  in  the  morning, 
Brigaud  came  for  D'Harmental,  and  found  the  young  man 
ready  and  waiting.  They  wrapped  themselves  in  their 
cloaks,  drew  down  their  hats  over  their  eyes,  and  pro- 
ceeded through  the  Rue  de  Clery,  the  Place  des  Victoires, 
and  the  garden  of  the  Palais  Royal. 

On  reaching  the  Rue  de  l'Echelle,  they  began  to  per- 
ceive an  unusual  stir.  All  the  avenues  leading  toward 
the  Tuileries  were  guarded  by  detachments  of  musketeers 
and  light-horse,  and  the  people,  expelled  from  the  court 
and  gardens  of  the  Tuileries,  crowded  into  the  Place  du 
Carrousel.    D'Harmental  and  Brigaud  mixed  with  the  mob. 

Having  arrived  at  the  place  where  the  triumphal  arch 
now  stands,  they  were  accosted  by  an  officer  of  the  Gray 
Musketeers,  wrapped  in  a  large  cloak  like  themselves.  It 
was  Valef. 

"  Well,  Baron,"  asked  Brigaud,  "  what  news  1 " 

"  Ah,  it  is  you,  Abbe,"  said  Valef.  <l  We  have  been 
looking  for  you,  —  Laval,  Malezieux,  and  myself.  I  have 
just  left  them ;  they  must  be  somewhere  near.  Let  us 
stop  here ;  it  will  not  be  long  before  they  find  us.  Do 
you  know  anything  yourself?" 

"  No,  nothing.  I  called  at  Malezieux's,  but  he  had 
already  gone  out." 

"  Say  that  he  had  not  yet  come  home.  We  remained 
at  the  Arsenal  all  night." 


THE  BED  OF  JUSTICE.  413 

"  And  no  hostile  demonstration  has  been  made  1 "  asked 
D'Harniental. 

"  None.  Monsieur  le  Due  du  Maine  and  Monsieur  le 
Comte  de  Toulouse  were  summoned  for  the  regent's  coun- 
cil, which  is  to  be  held  this  morning  before  the  beginning 
of  the  bed  of  justice.  At  half-past  six  they  were  both  at 
the  Tuileries ;  so  Madame  du  Maine,  in  order  to  get  the 
news  as  soon  as  possible,  has  come  and  installed  herself  in 
her  superintendent's  apartments." 

"  Is  it  known  what  has  become  of  the  Prince  de  Cella- 
mare  % "  asked  D'Harmental. 

"  He  is  sent  to  Orleans,  in  a  carriage  with  four  horses, 
in  the  company  of  a  gentleman  of  the  king's  household, 
and  an  escort  of  a  dozen  light-horse." 

"  And  is  nothing  known  about  the  paper  which  Dubois 
picked  out  of  the  cinders  1 "  asked  Brigaud. 

"  Nothing." 

"  What  does  Madame  du  Maine  think  1 " 

"  That  he  is  brewing  something  against  the  legitimated 
princes,  and  that  he  will  profit  by  this  to  take  away  some 
more  of  their  privileges.  This  morning  she  lectured  her 
husband  sharply,  and  he  promised  to  remain  firm,  but  she 
does  not  rely  upon  him." 

"  And  Monsieur  de  Toulouse  1 " 

"  We  saw  him  yesterday  evening ;  but,  you  know,  my 
dear  Abbe,  there  is  nothing  to  be  made  of  him,  with  his 
modesty,  or  rather  his  humility.  He  always  thinks  that 
they  have  done  too  much  for  him,  and  is  ready  to  abandon 
to  the  regent  anything  that  is  asked  of  him." 

"By  the  bye,'the  king?" 

"Well,  the  king  —  " 

"  Yes ;  how  has  he  taken  the  arrest  of  his  tutor  ?  " 

"  Ah,  do  you  not  know  1  It  seems  that  there  was  a 
compact  between  the  marshal  and  Monsieur  de  Frejua 


414  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

that  if  one  of  them  should  be  removed  from  his  Majesty, 
the  other  should  leave  immediately.  Yesterday  morning 
Monsieur  de  Frejus  disappeared." 

"  And  where  is  he  1 " 

"  God  knows  !  The  king,  who  had  taken  the  loss  of 
his  marshal  very  well,  is  inconsolable  at  that  of  his  bishop." 

"  And  how  do  you  know  all  that  1 " 

"  Through  the  Due  de  Eichelieu,  who  went  yesterday, 
about  two  o'clock,  to  Versailles,  to  pay  his  respects  to  the 
king,  and  found  his  Majesty  in  despair  in  the  midst  of 
the  china  and  ornaments  which  he  had  broken.  Unfortu- 
nately Richelieu,  instead  of  encouraging  the  king's  grief, 
made  him  laugh  by  telling  him  a  hundred  stories,  and 
almost  consoled  him  by  helping  him  to  break  the  rest 
of  the  china  and  ornaments." 

At  this  moment  an  individual  clothed  in  the  long  robe 
of  an  advocate,  and  with  a  square  cap,  passed  near  the 
group  which  was  formed  by  Brigaud,  D'Harmental,  and 
Valef,  humming  the  refrain  of  a  song  made  on  the  marshal 
after  the  battle  of  Ramillies.  Brigaud  turned  round,  and 
under  the  disguise  thought  he  recognized  Pompadour. 
The  advocate  stopped,  and  approached  the  group  in  ques- 
tion. The  abbe  had  no  longer  any  doubt ;  it  was  really 
the  marquis. 

"  Well,  Maitre  Clement,"  said  he,  "  what  news  from 
the  palace?" 

"  Oh !  "  answered  Pompadour,  "  good  news,  particularly 
if  it  be  true.:  they  say  that  the  parliament  refuses  to 
come  to  the  Tuileries." 

"  Vive  Dieu  / "  cried  Valef,  "  that  will  reconcile  me 
with  the  red  robes.     But  they  will  not  dare." 

"Why  not]  You  know  that  Monsieur  de  Mesme  is 
for  us ;  he  has  been  named  president  through  the  in- 
fluence of  Monsieur  du  Maine." 


THE  BED  OF  JUSTICE.  415 

"Yes,  that  is  true,  but  that  is  long  since,"  said  Bri- 
gaud \  "and  if  you  have  nothing  better  to  rely  upon, 
Maitre  Clement,  I  should  advise  you  not  to  count  upon 
him." 

"Particularly,"  answered  Yalef,  "as  he  has  just  ob- 
tained from  the  regent  the  payment  of  five  hundred  thou- 
sand francs  on  his  claim  for  arrears." 

"  Oh,  oh  !  "  said  D'Harmental ;  "  see  !  it  appears  to  me 
that  something  new  is  going  on.  Are  they  coming  out 
already  from  the  regent's  council  1 " 

Indeed,  a  great  movement  was  taking  place  in  the  court 
of  the  Tuileries ;  and  the  two  carriages  of  the  Due  du 
Maine  and  the  Comte  de  Toulouse  left  their  post,  and 
approached  the  clock  pavilion.  At  the  same  instant  the 
two  brothers  made  their  appearance.  They  exchanged 
a  few-  words  ;  each  got  into  his  own  carriage ;  and  the 
two  vehicles  departed  at  a  rapid  pace  by  the  waterside 
wicket. 

For  ten  minutes  Brigaud,  D'Harmental,  Pompadour, 
and  Valef  were  lost  in  conjectures  regarding  this  event,  — 
which,  having  been  remarked  by  others  as  well  as  by 
them,  had  made  a  sensation  among  the  crowd,  —  but 
without  being  able  to  assign  it  to  its  proper  cause.  Then 
they  noticed  Malezieux,  who  appeared  to  be  looking  for 
them.  They  went  to  him,  and  by  his  discomposed  face 
they  judged  that  the  information  which  he  had  to  bring 
was  not  comforting. 

"Well,"  asked  Pompadour,  "have  you  any  idea  of 
what  has  been  going  on  1 " 

"Alas! "  answered  Malezieux,  "I  am  afraid  that  all  is 
lost." 

"  You  know  that  the  Due  du  Maine  and  the  Comte  de 
Toulouse  have  left  the  council] "  asked  Valef. 

"  I  was  on  the  quay  when  he  passed  in  his  carriage,  and 


416  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

he  recognized  me,  and  stopped  the  carriage,  and  sent  me 
by  his  servant  this  little  note  in  pencil." 
M  Let  us  see,"  said  Brigaud,  and  he  read  :  — 

I  do  not  know  what  is  plotting  against  us,  but  the  regent 
invited  us  —  Toulouse  and  me  —  to  leave  the  council.  That 
invitation  appeared  to  me  an  order,  and  as  all  resistance  would 
have  been  useless,  seeing  that  we  have  in  the  council  only 
four  or  five  voices,  upon  which  I  am  not  sure  that  we  can 
count,  I  was  obliged  to  obey.  Try  to  see  the  duchess,  who 
must  be  at  the  Tuileries,  and  tell  her  that  I  am  retiring  to 
Rambouillet,  where  I  shall  wait  for  the  turn  of  events. 
Your  affectionate, 

Louis-Auguste. 

"  The  coward  ! "  said  Valef. 

"  And  these  are  the  men  for  whom  we  risk  our  heads," 
murmured  Pompadour. 

"You  are  mistaken,  my  dear  Marquis,"  said  Brigaud  ; 
"  we  risk  our  heads  on  our  own  account,  I  hope,  and  not 
for  others.  Is  not  that  true,  Chevalier?  Well,  what  in 
the  devil  is  the  matter  with  you?" 

"  Wait,  Abbe,"  answered  D'Harmental ;  "  I  seem  to 
recognize  —  yes,  the  devil  take  me,  it.  is  he!  You  will 
not  go  away  from  this  place,   gentlemen  1 " 

"  No ;  I  answer  for  myself  at  least,"  said  Pompadour. 

"Nor  I,"  said  Valef. 

"  Nor  I,"  said  Malezieux. 

"  Nor  I,"  said  the  abbe. 

"  Well,  then,  I  will  rejoin  you  in  an  instant." 

"  Where  are  you  going  1 "  asked  Brigaud. 

"Do  not  look,  Abbe,"  said  D'Harmental;  "it  is  on 
private  business." 

Dropping  Valef's  arm,  D'Harmental  began  to  press 
through  the  crowd  toward  a  person  whom  he  had  been 
following  with  his  eyes  for  some  time,  and  who,  thanks 


THE  BED  OF  JUSTICE.  417 

to  his  personal  strength,  had  approached  the  gate  with  a 
half-intoxicated  damsel  hanging  on  either  arm. 

"  Do  you  see,  my  princesses  1 "  said  the  person  in  ques- 
tion, tracing  architectural  lines  in  the  sand  with  the  end 
of  his  cane,  while  at  every  movement  his  long  sword 
fretted  his  neighbors'  legs,  —  "  here  is  what  is  called  a 
bed  of  justice.  I  know  all  about  that.  I  saw  what  took 
place  at  the  death  of  the  late  king,  when  the  will  was 
broken,  and  it  was  declared,  with  all  due  respect  for  his 
Majesty  Louis  XIV.,  that  bastards  were  always  bastards. 
You  see,  it  takes  place  in  a  large  hall,  long  or  square,  it 
makes  no  difference  which.  The  seat  of  the  king  is 
here;   the  peers  are  there;   the  parliament  is  in  front." 

"Say,  Honorine,"  interrupted  one  of  the  two  young 
women,  "  does  this  story  that  he  is  telling  amuse  you  1 " 

"  Not  the  least  in  the  world.  It  was  not  worth  while 
to  bring  us  here  from  the  Quai  St.  Paul,  promising  us 
a  spectacle,  just  to  show  us  fifty  mounted  musketeers 
and  a  dozen  light-horse  running  after  one  another." 

"  Say,  then,  old  man,"  continued  the  first  speaker,  "  it 
seems  to  me  that  if  we  should  go  and  eat  a  matelotte  a 
la  Bapee,  it  would  be  more  nourishing  than  your  bed  of 
justice  ;  hey  1 " 

"  Mademoiselle  Honorine,"  replied  he  to  whom  this 
artful  invitation  was  addressed,  "  I  have  already  observed, 
though  it  is  hardly  twelve  hours  since  I  had  the  honor  of 
making  your  acquaintance,  that  you  are  very  ready  with 
your  tongue,  —  a  bad  fault  in  a  woman.  Try,  then,  to 
correct  it,  at  any  rate  during  the  rest  of  the  time  you  are 
to  be  with  me." 

"I  say,  Phemie,  does  he  mean  to  lead  us  about  like 
this  till  five  o'clock  in  the  evening,  and  give  us  nothing 
but  his  fried  omelet  and  his  three  bottles  of  white 
wine,  —  the    old    fox  ?     To    begin   with,    I  warn    you, 

27 


418  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

my  fine   fellow,   that  I  am  off,  if  I   am   not   fed   right 
away." 

"  Very  fine,  my  passion,  —  as  Monsieur  Pierre  Corneille 
says,  — very  fine  !  "  replied  the  personage  to  whose  vanity 
this  gastronomic  appeal  was  addressed,  seizing  with  each 
of  his  hands  a  wrist  of  each  of  the  young  women,  and 
securing  them  under  his  arms  as  if  with  pincers ;  "  there 
is  no  question  here  of  a  dish  more  or  less.  You  belong 
to  me  till  four  o'clock,  according  to  the  arrangement  made 
with  Madame  Something  —  what  is  her  name  ?  " 
«  Yes,  but  fed,  fed  !  " 

"  The  matter  of  food  did  n't  enter  for  an  instant  into 
the  arrangement,  my  chickens  ;  and  if  any  one  has  been 
wronged  in  the  affair,  it  is  I." 
"  You  1     Stingy  fellow  !  " 
"  Yes,  I ;  I  asked  for  two  women." 
"  Well,  you  have  them." 

"  Pardon,  pardon  !  I  repeat :  I  asked  for  two  women ; 
that  is  to  say,  a  blonde  and  a  brunette.  But  taking  advan- 
tage of  the  obscurity,  they  gave  me  two  blondes,  which  is 
exactly  as  if  they  had  given  me  only  one,  since  the  two 
are  just  alike.  It  is  I,  then,  who  have  the  right  to  com- 
plain. So  let  us  say  no  more  about  it,  my  loves." 
"  But  it  is  an  injustice  !  "  exclaimed  the  two  women. 
"Well,  the  world  is  full  of  injustice.  For  instance, 
they  are  probably  doing  an  injustice  at  this  very  moment 
to  that  poor  Monsieur  du  Maine  ;  and  if  you  had  any  feel- 
ing, you  would  tniiiK  only  of  the  trouble  they  are  prepar- 
ing for  that  poor  prince.  As  for  myself,  my  stomach  is 
so  full  that  it  would  be  impossible  for  me  to  swallow  the 
least  thing.  Besides,  you  wanted  to  see  the  show.  Well, 
here  it  is,  and  a  fine  one ;  look  !     Who  looks,  dines." 

"Captain,"  said   the    chevalier,    tapping   Roquefinette 
on  the  shoulder,  and  hoping  that,  thanks  to  the  move-* 


THE  BED  OF  JUSTICE.  419 

ment  occasioned  by  the  approach  of  the  parliament,  they 
would  be  able  to  talk  without  being  observed,  "  can  I  say 
two  words  to  you  in  private  1 " 

"  Four,  Chevalier,  four ;  and  with  the  greatest  pleasure. 
Stay  there,  my  kittens,"  he  added,  placing  the  two  young 
women  in  the  front  row  ;  "and  if  any  one  insults  you, 
make  me  a  sign.  I  shall  be  only  two  steps  from  here. 
I  am  ready,  Chevalier,"  he  continued,  drawing  D'Harmen- 
tal  out  of  the  crowd ;  "  I  have  recognized  you  for  the  last 
five  minutes,  but  it  was  not  my  business  to  speak  first." 

"And  I  see  with  pleasure,"  said  D'Haruiental,  "that 
Captain  Koquefinette  is  still  prudent." 

"  Prudentissimo,  Chevalier ;  so  if  you  have  any  new 
overture  to  make,  out  with  it." 

"  No,  Captain,  no ;  not  at  present,  at  least.  Besides, 
the  place  is  not  suitable  for  a  conference  of  that  nature. 
Only  I  wish  to  know,  in  case  of  my  having  need  of  you, 
whether  you  still  live  in  the  same  place  %  " 

"  Still,  Chevalier ;  I  am  like  an  ivy,  —  I  die  where  I 
grow.  Only,  like  that,  I  climb  ;  which  means  that  instead 
of  finding  me,  as  you  did  the  first  time,  on  the  first  or 
second  floor,  you  will  have  to  look  for  me  on  the  fifth 
or  sixth,  seeing  that,  by  a  very  natural  see-saw  movement, 
as  my  funds  go  down,  I  go  up." 

"  What,  Captain,"  said  D'Harmental,  laughing,  and  put- 
ting his  hand  in  his  pocket,  "  you  are  in  want  of  money, 
and  you  do  not  address  yourself  to  your  friends  % " 

"  I  borrow  money  !  "  cried  the  captain,  stopping  D'Har- 
mental's  liberal  intentions  with  a  sign ;  "no.  When  I  do 
you  a  service,  you  make  me  a  present;  well  and  good. 
When  I  conclude  a  bargain,  you  execute  the  conditions. 
But  I  to  ask  without  having  a  right  to  ask,  —  that  may 
do  for  a  church  rat,  but  not  for  a  soldier.  One  may  be 
only  a  simple  gentleman,  and  yet  as  proud  as  a  duke  and 


420  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

peer.  But,  pardon,  pardon ;  I  see  that  my  wenches  are 
crawling  off,  and  I  don't  care  to  be  cheated  even  by 
creatures  of  that  sort.  If  you  want  me,  you  know  where 
to  find  me.     Au  revoir,  Chevalier!    au  revoir  /" 

And  without  waiting  for  D'Harinental's  answer,  Roque- 
finette  started  in  pursuit  of  Mademoiselles  Honorine  and 
Euphemie,  who,  thinking  they  were  out  of  the  captain's 
sight,  were  trying  to  take  advantage  of  that  circumstance 
to  seek  elsewhere  the  matelotte  to  which  the  honorable 
trooper  doubtless  would  have  been  as  much  inclined 
as  they  were,  if  perchance  his  pocket  had  been  better 
furnished. 

Meantime,  since  it  was  only  eleven  o'clock  in  the  morn- 
ing, and  in  all  probability  the  bed  of  justice  would  con- 
tinue till  four  in  the  afternoon,  and  until  then  nothing 
would  be  decided,  the  chevalier  thought  that  instead  of 
remaining  on  the  Place  du  Carrousel,  he  would  do  better 
to  turn  the  three  or  four  hours  which  he  had  before  him 
to  the  profit  of  his  love.  Moreover,  the  nearer  he  ap- 
proached to  the  catastrophe,  the  more  need  he  felt  of 
seeing  Bathilde.  Bathilde  had  become  one  of  the  elements 
of  his  life,  one  of  the  organs  necessary  to  his  existence ; 
and  at  the  moment  when  he  might  be  separated  from  her 
forever,  he  did  not  understand  how  he  could  live  a  single 
day  away  from  her.  Consequently,  pressed  by  the  eter- 
nal craving  for  the  presence  of  the  loved  object,  the 
chevalier,  instead  of  going  to  look  for  his  companions, 
went  toward  the  Rue  du  Temps-Perdu. 

D'Harmental  found  the  poor  child  very  uneasy.  Buvat 
had  not  come  home  since  half-past  nine  the  morning  be- 
fore. Nanette  had  been  to  inquire  at  the  library,  and  to 
her  great  astonishment,  and  the  scandal  of  his  fellow- 
clerks,  she  had  learned  that  he  had  not  been  there  for 
five  or  six  days.     Such  a  derangement  in  Buvat 's  habits 


THE  BED  OP  JUSTICE.  421 

indicated  the  imminence  of  serious  events.  On  the  other 
hand,  the  young  girl  had  noticed  in  Raoul  the  day  before 
a  sort  of  nervous  agitation,  which,  though  kept  under 
control,  seemed  to  indicate  the  approach  of  an  important 
crisis.  Thus,  joining  her  old  fears  to  her  new  anxieties, 
Bathilde  felt  instinctively  that  a  misfortune,  invisible  but 
inevitable,  hung  above  her,  and  at  any  moment  might  fall 
upon  her  head. 

But  when  Bathilde  saw  Eaoul,  all  fear  arising  from  the 
past  or  looking  toward  the  future,  was  lost  in  the  happi- 
ness of  the  present.  On  his  part,  Raoul,  either  by  exer- 
cise of  self-control,  or  by  force  of  a  sentiment  like  her 
own,  thought  of  nothing  but  Bathilde.  Nevertheless,  this 
time  the  preoccupations  on  both  sides  were  so  powerful 
that  Bathilde  could  not  help  declaring  to  Raoul  her  anx- 
ieties,, which  he  combated  the  more  feebly  because  that 
absence  of  Buvat  linked  itself  in  his  mind  with  certain 
suspicions  that  had  already  occurred  to  him,  and  which  he 
had  hastened  to  dismiss.  Time  slipped  by  with  its  usual 
rapidity,  and  four  o'clock  struck  when  the  lovers  fancied 
that  they  had  been  together  but  a  few  minutes.  It  was 
the  hour  at  which  Raoul  generally  took  his  leave. 

If  Buvat  was  to  return,  he  would  probably  return  at 
this  time.  After  exchanging  a  hundred  vows,  the  two 
young  people  separated,  agreeing  that  if  anything  new 
happened  to  either  of  them,  whatever  hour  of  the 
day  or  night  it  might  be,  the  other  should  be  notified 
immediately. 

At  the  door  of  Madame  Denis's  house  D'Harmental  met 
Brigaud.  The  bed  of  justice  was  concluded,  and  nothing 
positive  was  yet  known  ;  but  vague  rumors  were  afloat 
that  terrible  measures  had  been  taken.  Authentic  informa- 
tion must  soon  arrive,  and  Brigaud  had  appointed  a  rendez- 
vous  with  Pompadour  and  Malezieux  at  D'Harmental 'a 


422  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

lodgings,  who,  being  the  least  known,  would  be  the  least 
watched. 

In  about  an  hour  the  Marquis  de  Pompadour  arrived. 
The  parliament  had  at  first  wished  to  make  opposition, 
but  everything  had  given  way  before  the  will  of  the 
regent.  The  King  of  Spain's  letters  had  been  read  and 
condemned.  It  had  been  decided  that  the  dukes  and 
peers  should  rank  immediately  after  the  princes  of  the 
blood.  The  honors  of  the  legitimated  princes  were 
restricted  to  the  simple  rank  of  their  peerages.  Finally, 
the  Due  du  Maine  lost  the  superintendence  of  the  king's 
education,  which  was  confided  to  the  Due  de  Bourbon. 
The  Comte  de  Toulouse  alone  was  maintained,  during  his 
lifetime,  in  his  privileges  and  prerogatives. 

Malezieux  arrived  in  his  turn  ;  he  had  recently  left  the 
duchess.  They  had  just  given  her  notice  to  leave  her 
apartments  in  the  Tuileries,  which  belonged  henceforward 
to  Monsieur  le  Due.  Such  an  affront  had,  as  may  easily 
be  understood,  exasperated  the  granddaughter  of  the  great 
Conde\  She  had  flown  into  a  violent  passion,  broken  all 
the  looking-glasses  with  her  own  hands,  and  had  all  the 
furniture  thrown  out  of  the  window  ;  then,  this  perform- 
ance finished,  she  had  got  into  her  carriage,  sending  Laval 
to  Rambouillet,  in  order  to  urge  Monsieur  du  Maine  to 
some  vigorous  action,  and  charging  Malezieux  to  assemble 
all  her  friends  that  evening  at  the  Arsenal. 

Pompadour  and  Brigaud  cried  out  against  the  impru- 
dence of  such  a  meeting.  Madame  du  Maine  was  evi- 
dently watched.  To  go  to  the  Arsenal  the  day  when  it 
was  known  that  her  anger  was  at  the  highest  pitch  would 
be  to  compromise  themselves  openly.  Pompadour  and 
Brigaud  were  therefore  in  favor  of  going  and  begging  her 
Highness  to  appoint  some  other  time  or  place  for  the  ren- 
dezvous.    Malezieux  and  D'Harmental  were  of  the  same 


THE  BED  OF  JUSTICE.  423 

opinion  regarding  the  danger  of  the  step  \  but  they  ooth 
declared  —  the  first  from  devotion,  the  second  from  a 
sense  of  duty  —  that  the  more  perilous  the  order  was,  the 
more  clearly  honor  called  them  to  obey. 

The  discussion,  as  always  happens  in  such  circum- 
stances, began  to  degenerate  into  a  pretty  sharp  alterca- 
tion, when  they  heard  the  steps  of  two  persons  mounting 
the  stairs.  As  the  three  who  had  appointed  a  meeting  at 
D'Harmental's  were  all  assembled,  Brigaud,  who  with  his 
ear  always  on  the  alert  had  heard  the  sound  first,  put  his 
finger  to  his  mouth,  to  impose  silence  on  the  disputants. 
They  could  plainly  hear  the  steps  approaching ;  then  a 
low  whispering,  as  of  two  persons  questioning ;  finally, 
the  door  opened,  and  gave  entrance  to  a  soldier  of  the 
French  Guard  and  a  little  grisette. 

The  guardsman  was  the  Baron  de  Valef. 

As  to  the  grisette,  she  threw  off  the  black  veil  which 
hid  her  face,  and  they  recognized  Madame  du  Maine. 


424  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 


CHAPTER    XXXVIII. 

MAN    PROPOSES. 

"  Your  Highness  here  !  your  Highness  at  my  lodging  !  " 
cried  D'Harmental.  "  What  have  I  done  to  merit  such 
an  honor  1  " 

"  The  hour  is  come,  Chevalier,"  said  the  duchess,  "  when 
it  is  right  that  we  should  show  those  whom  we  esteem  the 
opinion  we  hold  of  their  merits.  It  shall  never  be  said 
that  the  friends  of  Madame  du  Maine  expose  themselves 
for  her,  and  that  she  does  not  expose  herself  with  them. 
Thank  God,  I  am  the  granddaughter  of  the  great  Conde^ 
and  I  feel  that  I  am  worthy  of  my  ancestor." 

"  Your  Highness  is  most  welcome,"  said  Pompadour ; 
"  for  your  arrival  will  relieve  us  of  a  serious  embarrass- 
ment. Decided,  as  we  were,  to  obey  your  orders,  we 
nevertheless  hesitated  at  the  idea  of  the  danger  incurred 
by  an  assembly  at  the  Arsenal  at  such  a  moment  as  the 
present,  when  the  police  had  their  eyes  upon  it." 

"  And  I  thought  with  you,  Marquis ;  so  instead  of 
waiting  for  you,  I  resolved  to  come  and  seek  you.  The 
baron  accompanied  me.  I  went  to  the  house  of  the 
Comtesse  de  Chavigny,  a  friend  of  De  Launay,  who  lives 
in  the  Rue  du  Mail.  We  had  clothes  brought  there  ;  and 
as  we  were  only  a  few  steps  off,  we  came  here  on  foot,  and 
here  we  are.  On  my  honor,  Messire  Voyer  d'Argenson 
would  be  clever  indeed  if  he  recognized  us  in  this 
disguise." 


MAN  PROPOSES.  425 

"  I  see  with  pleasure,"  said  Malezieux,  "  that  your 
Highness  is  not  cast  down  by  the  events  of  this  horrible 
day." 

"  Cast  down  !  I,  Malezieux  !  I  hope  you  know  me  too 
well  to  have  feared  it  for  a  single  instant.  Cast  down  ! 
On  the  contrary,  I  never  felt  more  vigor,  or  more  deter- 
mination.    Oh,  if  I  only  were  a  man !  " 

"Let  your  Highness  command,"  said  D'Harmental, 
"  and  everything  that  you  could  do  if  you  yourself  could 
act, we  will  do,  —  we,  who  stand  in  your  stead." 

"  No,  no  ;  it  is  impossible  that  any  other  should  do  what 
I  should  have  done." 

"  Nothing  is  impossible,  Madame,  to  five  men  «as 
devoted  as  we  are.  Moreover,  our  interest  demands  a 
prompt  and  energetic  course  of  action.  It  is  not  reason- 
able to  believe  that  the  regent  will  stop  at  the  point  he 
has  reached.  The  day  after  to-morrow  —  to-morrow  — 
this  evening,  perhaps  —  we  shall  all  be  arrested.  Dubois 
gives  out  that  the  paper  which  he  saved  from  the  flames 
at  the  Prince  de  Cellamare's  is  nothing  less  than  the  list  of 
the  conspirators.  In  that  case,  he  knows  all  our  names. 
We  have,  then,  at  this  very  moment  a  sword  hanging  over 
each  of  our  heads.  Do  not  let  us  wait  till  the  thread 
which  suspends  it  snaps ;  let  us  seize  it,  and  strike ! " 

"  Strike  !  What,  where,  and  how  % "  asked  Brigaud. 
"  That  abominable  parliament  has  destroyed  all  our 
schemes.     Have  we  measures  taken,  or  a  plot  made  out? " 

"  The  best  plan  which  has  been  conceived,"  said  Pompa- 
dour, "  and  the  one  which  offered  the  greatest  chance  of 
success,  was  the  first ;  as  is  proved  by  the  fact  that  but  for 
an  unheard-of  circumstance  which  intervened  to  defeat  it, 
it  would  have  succeeded." 

"  Well,  if  the  plan  was  good  then,  it  is  so  still,"  said 
Valef;  "let  us  return  to  it!" 


426  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

"  Yes,  but  in  failing,"  said  Malezieux,  "  this  plan  put 
the  regent  on  his  guard." 

"  On  the  contrary,"  said  Pompadour,  "  in  consequence 
of  that  very  failure,  it  will  be  supposed  that  we  have 
abandoned  it." 

"  And  the  proof  is,"  said  Valef,  "  that  the  regent,  on 
this  head,  takes  fewer  precautions  than  ever.  For 
example  :  since  his  daughter,  Mademoiselle  de  Chartres, 
has  become  Abbess  of  Chelles,  he  goes  to  see  her  every 
week  ;  and  he  goes  through  the  Bois  de  Vincennes  without 
guards,  with  only  a  coachman  and  two  lackeys,  and  that 
at  eight  or  nine  o'clock  at  night." 

'"  And  what  day  does  he  pay  this  visit  % "  asked 
Brigaud. 

"  Wednesday." 

"  Wednesday  1   that  is  to-morrow,"  said  the  duchess. 
"  Brigaud,"  said  Valef,  "  have  you  still  the  passport  foi 
Spain  ? " 
"  Yes." 

*  And  the  same  facilities  for  the  journey  1 " 
"  The  same.     The  post-master  is  with  us,  and  we  shall 
have  only  to  explain  to  him." 

"  Well,"  said  Valef,  "  if  her  royal  Highness  will  allow 
me,  I  will  to-morrow  call  together  seven  or  eight  friends, 
wait  for  the  regent  in  the  Bois  de  Vincennes,  carry  him 
off,  and  in  three  days  I  am  at  Pampeluna." 

"  An  instant,  my  dear  Baron,"  said  D'Harmental.  "  I 
would  observe  to  you  that  you  are  stepping  into  my  shoes, 
and  that  of  right  this  undertaking  belongs  to  me." 

"  You,  my  dear  Chevalier  !  you  have  already  done  what 
you  had  to  do ;  now  it  is  our  turn." 

"  Not  at  all,  if  you  please,  Valef.  My  honor  is  con- 
cerned in  it,  for  I  have  revenge  to  take.  You  will  there- 
fore annoy  me  infinitely  by  insisting  in  the  matter." 


MAN  PROPOSES.  427 

"All  that  I  can  do  for  you,  my  dear  D'Harmental," 
said  Valef,  "  is  to  leave  it  to  her  Highness's  choice.  She 
knows  that  we  are  equally  devoted  to  her ;  let  her 
decide." 

"  Will  you  accept  my  arbitration,  Chevalier  1 "  said  the 
duchess. 

"Yes,  for  I  trust  to  your  justice,  Madame/'  said 
D'Harmental. 

"  And  you  are  right ;  yes,  the  honor  of  the  undertaking 
belongs  to  you.  I  place  in  your  hands  the  fate  of  the 
son  of  Louis  XIV.,  and  of  the  granddaughter  of  the 
great  Conde.  I  trust  entirely  to  your  devotion  and 
courage ;  and  I  have  the  greater  hope  of  your  success  this 
time  because  fortune  owes  you  a  compensation.  To  you, 
my  dear  D'Harmental,  all  the  peril ;  but,  also,  to  you  all 
the  honor ! " 

"  I  accept  both  with  gratitude,"  said  D'Harmental, 
kissing  respectfully  the  hand  which  the  duchess  offered 
him ;  "  and  to-morrow,  at  this  hour,  I  shall  be  dead,  or 
the  regent  will  be  on  the  way  to  Spain." 

"  Very  good,"  said  Pompadour,  "  that  is  what  I  call 
speaking  ;  and  if  you  want  any  one  to  give  you  a  helping 
hand,  my  dear  Chevalier,  count  on  me." 

"  And  on  me,"  said  Valef. 

"  And  are  we,  then,  good  for  nothing  1 "  said  Malezieux. 

"  My  dear  Chancellor,"  said  the  duchess,  "  to  each  one 
his  share.  To  poets,  churchmen,  and  magistrates,  advice ; 
to  soldiers,  execution.  Chevalier,  are  you  sure  of  finding 
the  men  who  assisted  you  before  1  " 

u  I  am  sure  of  their  chief,  at  least." 

"  When  shall  you  see  him  ? " 

"  This  evening." 

"  At  what  time  % " 

"  Directly,  if  your  Highness  wishes  it." 


428  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

"  The  sooner  the  better." 

"  In  a  quarter  of  an  hour  I  will  be  with  him." 

"  Where  can  we  learn  the  result  of  the  interview  ?  " 

"  I  will  come  to  your  Highness,  wheresoever  you  may  be." 

"Not  to  the  Arsenal,"  said  Brigaud;  "it  is  too 
dangerous." 

"  Can  we  not  wait  here  1 "  asked  the  duchess. 

"  I  would  observe  to  your  Highness,"  said  Brigaud, 
"  that  my  pupil  is  a  steady  fellow,  receiving  scarcely  any 
one,  and  that  a  long  visit  might  arouse  suspicion." 

"  Can  we  not  appoint  a  meeting  where  there  would  be 
no  such  fear  1 "   asked  Pompadour. 

"  Certainly,"  said  the  duchess ;  "  at  the  stone  in  the 
Champs  Elysees,  for  instance.  Malezieux  and  I  will  qome 
there  in  a  carriage  without  livery  and  without  arms. 
Pompadour,  Yalef,  and  Brigaud  will  meet  us  there,  each 
one  separately ;  there  we  will  wait  for  D'Harmental,  and 
arrange  the  final  preparations." 

"  That  will  suit  well,"  said  D'Harmental,  "  for  my 
man  lives  in  the  Rue  St.  Honore." 

"  You  know,  Chevalier,"  replied  the  duchess ;  "that  you 
may  promise  as  much  money  as  you  like." 

"  I  undertake  to  fill  the  purse,"  said  Brigaud. 

"  You  will  do  well,  Abbe,  for  I  know  who  will  under- 
take to  empty  it,"  said  D'Harmental,  smiling. 

"  Then  all  is  agreed,"  said  the  duchess.  "  In  an  hour, 
in  the  Champs  Elysees." 

Then  the  duchess,  having  readjusted  her  mantle  so  as 
to  hide  her  face,  took  Yalef  s  arm  and  went  out.  Male- 
zieux followed  at  a  little  distance,  taking  care  not  to 
lose  sight  of  her.  Brigaud,  Pompadour,  and  D'Harmental 
went  out  together,  and  D'Harmental  went  directly  to  the 
Rue  St.  Honore. 

Whether  by  chance  or  by  calculation  on  the  part  of 


MAN  PROPOSES.  429 

the  duchess,  who  appreciated  D'Harmental,  and  understood 
how  fully  she  might  rely  upon  him,  the  chevalier  found 
himself  more  than  ever  put  forward  in  the  conspiracy. 
But  his  honor  was  engaged ;  he  had  considered  himself 
obliged  to  do  what  he  had  done ;  and  although  he  fore- 
saw the  terrible  consequences  of  the  step  which  he  was 
about  to  take,  he  went  boldly  forward,  resolved  to  sacrifice 
everything,  even  his  life  and  his  love,  to  the  fulfilment  of 
his  promise. 

He  presented  himself  at  La  Fillon's  with  the  same  tran- 
quillity and  resolution  as  before,  although  many  things 
were  altered  in  his  life  since  then;  and  having  been,  as 
before,  received  by  the  mistress  of  the  house  in  person,  he 
inquired  if  Captain  Roquefinette  were  visible. 

Without  doubt  La  Fillon  had  expected  a  much  less 
moral  demand  ;  for  on  recognizing  D'Harmental,  she  could 
not  repress  a  movement  of  surprise.  Nevertheless,  as  if 
she  were  still  in  doubt  as  to  his  identity,  she  asked  if  he 
was  not  the  same  person  who  two  months  before  had 
come  there  to  inquire  for  the  captain.  D'Harmental,  who 
thought  that  the  previous  visit  would  be  to  his  advantage 
in  overcoming  obstacles,  should  any  arise,  replied  in  the 
affirmative.  Nor  was  his  conjecture  at  fault.  La  Fillon,  as 
soon  as  she  was  informed  on  this  point,  called  to  her  a  sort 
of  Marton,  of  quite  elegant  appearance,  and  directed  her 
to  conduct  the  chevalier  to  chamber  No.  72  in  the  fifth 
story.  The  girl  obeyed,  took  a  candle,  and  ascended  the 
stairs,  assuming  meanwhile  all  the  affectations  of  a  sou- 
brette  of  Marivaux.  D'Harmental  followed  her.  This 
time  no  joyous  song  guided  him  in  his  ascent;  all  was 
silent  in  the  house.  The  serious  events  of  the  day  doubt- 
less had  kept  away  from  their  usual  rendezvous  the  patrons 
of  the  captain's  worthy  hostess ;  and  as  the  chevalier  him- 
self had  his  mind  directed  at  that  moment  to  grave  mat- 


430  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

ters,  he  mounted  the  six  nights  without  paying  the  least 
attention  to  the  affectations  of  his  conductress,  who  on 
arriving  at  No.  72  turned  to  him  and  asked  with  a  gracious 
smile  if  he  was  not  mistaken,  and  if  it  was  really  the 
captain  whom  he  wished  to  see. 

For  an  answer  the  chevalier  knocked  on  the  door. 

"  Enter,"  said  Eoquefinette,  with  his  strong  bass  voice. 

The  chevalier  slipped  a  louis  into  the  hand  of  his  guide, 
opened  the  door,  and  went  in. 

The  same  change  was  observable  in  the  interior  as  in  the 
exterior.  Eoquefinette  was  not  found  sitting,  as  on  the 
former  occasion,  among  the  debris  of  a  feast,  surrounded 
by  slaves,  and  smoking  his  long  pipe.  He  was  alone  in  a 
little  dark  attic,  lighted  by  a  single  candle,  which,  nearly 
burnt  out,  gave  more  smoke  than  flame,  and  whose  flicker- 
ing light  imparted  a  fantastic  expression  to  the  harsh  face 
of  the  brave  captain,  who  was  standing  leaning  against 
the  chimney-piece. 

"  Ah !  "  said  Eoquefinette,  in  a  slightly  ironical  tone, 
"it  is  you,  Chevalier?     I  expected  you." 

"  You  expected  me,  Captain  %  And  what  induced  you 
to  do  so?" 

"Events,  Chevalier,  events." 

"  What  do  you  mean  % " 

"  I  mean  that  you  thought  you  could  make  open  war, 
and  consequently  you  put  poor  Captain  Eoquefinette  aside 
as  a  bandit,  who  is  good  for  nothing  but  a  nocturnal  blow 
at  a  street  corner,  or  in  a  wood.  You  wanted  to  set  up 
again  your  little  League,  to  reopen  your  little  Fronde,  — 
and  here  is  friend  Dubois,  who  knows  all  about  it ;  here 
are  the  peers  on  whom  you  counted  going  back  on  you ; 
here  is  parliament  saying,  '  Yes,'  instead  of  saying,  ■  No.' 
Now  you  come  back  to  the  captain.  My  dear  Captain 
here !  my  good  Captain  there !     Is  not  this  exactly  what 


MAN  PROPOSES.  431 

has  happened,  Chevalier?  Well,  here  is  the  captain; 
what  do  you  want  of  him  1     Speak." 

"Really,  my  dear  Captain,"  said  D'Harmental,  not 
knowing  exactly  how  to  take  this  speech,  u  there  is  some 
truth  in  what  you  say.  Only  you  are  mistaken  if  you 
think  we  had  forgotten  you.  If  our  plan  had  succeeded, 
you  would  have  had  proof  of  my  good  memory,  and  I 
should  have  come  to  offer  you  my  credit,  as  I  now  come 
to  ask  your  assistance." 

"  Hum  ! "  said  the  captain,  shaking  his  head ;  "  for 
the  last  three  days,  while  I  have  inhabited  this  new  apart- 
ment, I  have  made  many  reflections  on  the  vanity  of 
human  affairs,  and  have  more  than  once  felt  inclined  to 
retire  altogether  from  these  enterprises,  or,  if  I  did  under- 
take one,  to  take  care  that  it  should  be  sufficiently  brilliant 
to  insure  my  future." 

"  Well,  what  I  come  to  propose  to  you  is  just  what  you 
want.     Without  preamble,  it  is  —  " 

"Is  what?"  asked  the  captain,  who,  seeing  D'Harmen- 
tal stop  and  look  around  uneasily,  had  waited  two  or  three 
seconds  for  the  conclusion  of  the  sentence. 

"  Pardon,  Captain,  but  I  thought  —  " 

"What  did  you  think,  Chevalier?" 

"I  thought  I  heard  steps,  —  a  sort  of  creaking  in  the 
wall." 

"  Ah  !"  said  the  captain,  "there  are  not  a  few  rats  in 
this  establishment,  I  can  tell  you." 

"Yes,  that  is- it;  I  am  mistaken,"  said  D'Harmental. 
"Well,  my  dear  Roquefinette,  we  wish  to  profit  by  the 
regent's  returning  unguarded  from  Chelles,  to  carry  him 
off,  and  take  him  to  Spain." 

"  Pardon ;  but  before  going  any  further,  Chevalier,"  said 
Roquefinette,  "  I  must  warn  you  that  this  is  a  new  treaty, 
and  that  every  new  treaty  implies  new  conditions." 


432  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

"  No  need  of  discussions  on  that  point,  Captain.  You 
shall  yourself  name  the  conditions;  but  can  you  still 
dispose  of  your  men  ?  " 

"  I  can." 

"  Will  they  be  ready  at  two  o'clock  to-morrow  ?  n 

"  They  will." 

"  That  is  all  that  is  necessary."    - 

"  Pardon ;  something  else  is  necessary,  —  money  to  buy 
a  horse  and  arms." 

"  There  are  a  hundred  louis  in  that  purse ;  take 
it." 

"  It  is  well ;  you  shall  have  an  account  of  it" 

"  Then  to-morrow,  at  my  house,  at  two  o'clock." 

"Agreed." 

"  Adieu,  Captain."  / 

"  Au  revoir,  Chevalier.  You  will  not  be  surprised  if  I 
am  somewhat  exacting?" 

"  I  want  you  to  be  so.  You  know  that  last  time  I 
complained  only  of  your  being  too  modest." 

"  Good  !  "  said  the  captain  ;  "  you  are  a  generous  fellow. 
Let  me  light  you ;  it  would  be  a  pity  that  a  brave  man 
like  you  should  break  his  neck." 

And  the  captain  took  the  candle,  which,  now  burnt 
down  to  the  paper,  threw  a  splendid  light  over  the  stair- 
case, and  D'Harmental  descended  without  accident.  On 
reaching  the  last  step,  he  repeated  to  the  captain  a  request 
that  he  would  be  punctual ;  and  the  captain  promised 
emphatically  that  he  would.  x 

D'Harmental  had  not  forgotten  that  Madame  du  Maine 
waited  with  anxiety  for  the  result  of  the  interview.  He 
did  not  trouble  himself,  therefore,  about  what  had  become 
of  La  Fillon,  whom  he  did  not  see  on  leaving  ;  and  having 
gone  down  the  Rue  des  Feuillans,  he  passed  along  the 
Champs  Elysees,  which  at  that  hour  was  almost  com- 


MAN  PROPOSES.  433 

pletely  deserted.  Having  arrived  at  the  stone,  he  noticed 
a  carriage  standing  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  road,  while 
two  men  were  walking  at  a  little  distance  from  it  in  a 
cross-road.  He  approached  the  carriage;  a  woman,  see- 
ing him,  put  her  head  impatiently  out  of  the  window. 
The  chevalier  recognized  Madame  du  Maine;  Malezieux 
and  Valef  were  with  her.  As  to  the  two  out  walking,  — 
who,  on  seeing  D'Harmental,  eagerly  approached  the  car- 
riage, —  it  is  needless  to  say  that  they  were  Brigaud  and 
Pompadour. 

The  chevalier,  without  naming  Eoquefinette,  or  enlarg- 
ing on  the  character  of  the  illustrious  captain,  told  them 
in  a  few  words  what  had  taken  place.  This  recital  was 
welcomed  by  a  general  exclamation  of  joy.  The  duchess 
gave  D'Harmental  her  hand  to  kiss  ;  the  men  pressed  his. 
It  was  agreed  that  the  next  day  at  two  o'clock,  the  duch- 
ess, Pompadour,  Laval,  Valef,  Malezieux,  and  Brigaud 
should  meet  at  the  residence  of  D'Avranches's  mother, 
No.  15  Faubourg  St.  Antoine,  and  that  they  should 
there  await  the  event.  This  was  to  be  announced  to  them 
by  D'Avranches  himself,  who  at  three  o'clock  was  to  be 
at  the  Barriere  du  Trone  with  two  horses,  —  one  for  himself, 
the  other  for  the  chevalier.  He  was  to  follow  D'Harmental 
at  a  distance,  and  return  to  announce  what  had  taken 
place.  Five  other  horses,  saddled  and  bridled,  were  to 
be  ready  in  the  stables  of  the  house  in  the  Faubourg 
St.  Antoine,  so  that  the  conspirators  might  fly  at  once  in 
case  of  the  chevalier's  failure. 

These  plans  settled,  the  duchess  forced  the  chevalier  to 
seat  himself  beside  her.  The  duchess  wished  to  drive  him 
home  ;  but  he  told  her  that  the  appearance  of  a  carriage  at 
Madame  Denis's  door  would  produce  too  much  sensation, 
and  that,  flattering  as  it  would  be  to  him,  it  would  be  too 
dangerous  for  all.    In  consequence,  the  duchess  set  D'Har* 

28 


434 

mental  down  in  the  Place  des  Victoires,  after  repeatedly 
expressing  her  gratitude  for  his  devotion. 

It  was  ten  o'clock  in  the  evening.  D'Harmental  had 
scarcely  seen  Bathilde  during  the  day  ;  he  wished  to  see 
her  again.  He  was  sure  to  find  her  at  her  window ;  but 
that  was  not  sufficient,  for  what  he  had  to  say  was  too 
serious  and  too  private  to  be  thrown  in  that  way  from 
one  side  of  the  street  to  the  other.  He  was  thinking 
under  what  pretext  he  could  present  himself  to  Bathilde 
at  so  late  an  hour,  when  he  thought  he  saw  a  woman 
at  the  door  of  her  house.  He  advanced  and  recognized 
Nanette. 

Nanette  was  there  by  Bathilde's  order.  The  poor  girl 
was  in  a  state  of  distressing  anxiety.  Buvat  had  not 
returned.  All  the  evening  she  had  remained  at  the  win- 
dow to  watch  for  D'Harmental,  but  had  not  seen  him. 
As  she  recurred  to  the  vague  ideas  which  had  entered  her 
mind  in  the  night  on  which  the  chevalier  had  attempted 
to  carry  off  the  regent,  it  seemed  to  her  that  there  must 
be  some  connection  between  Buvat's  strange  disappear- 
ance and  the  melancholy  which  she  had  remarked  the 
day  before  in  D'Harmental's  face.  Nanette  was  waiting 
at  the  door  for  Buvat  and  the  chevalier.  The  chevalier 
had  returned  ;  Nanette  remained  to  wait  for  Buvat,  and 
D'Harmental  went  up  to  Bathilde. 

Bathilde  had  heard  and  recognized  his  step,  and  ran  to 
open  the  door.  At  the  first  glance  she  noticed  the  pen- 
sive expression  of  his  face.  "  Oh,  mon  Dieu  !  Iiaoul ! " 
she  exclaimed,  drawing  the  young  man  into  her  room  and 
closing  the  door  behind  him,  "has  anything  happened  to 
you  % " 

"  Bathilde,"  said  D'Harmental,  with  a  melancholy 
smile,  "  you  have  often  told  me  that  there  is  in  me  some- 
thing unknown  and  mysterious,  which  frightens  you." 


MAN  PROPOSES.  435 

"Oh,  yes,  yes!"  cried  Bathilde ;  "and  it  is  the  only 
torment  of  my  life,  —  my  only  fear  for  the  future." 

"  And  you  are  right ;  for  before  I  knew  you,  Bathilde, 
before  I  had  seen  you,  I  had  abandoned  a  part  of  my  free- 
will. This  portion  of  myself  no  longer  belongs  to  me,  but 
submits  to  a  supreme  law,  and  to  unforeseen  events ;  it 
is  a  black  point  in  a  clear  sky.  According  to  the  way 
the  wind  blows,  it  may  disappear  as  a  vapor  or  increase 
into  a  storm.  The  hand  which  holds  and  guides  mine 
may  lead  me  to  the  highest  favor  or  to  the  most  com- 
plete disgrace.  Tell  me,  Bathilde,  are  you  disposed  to 
share  my  good  and  evil  fortune,  —  the  calm  and  the 
tempest  1 " 

"Everything  with  you,  Raoul." 

"  Think  of  what  you  are  undertaking,  Bathilde.  It  may 
be  a  happy  and  a  brilliant  life  which  is  reserved  for  you ; 
it  may  be  exile  ;  it  may  be  captivity ;  perhaps  —  perhaps 
you  will  be  a  widow  before  you  are  a  wife." 

Bathilde  turned  so  pale  that  Raoul  thought  she  would 
fall,  and  held  out  his  arms  to  support  her.  But  Bathilde 
was  full  of  energy  and  will;  she  regained  her  self-com- 
mand, and  holding  out  her  hand  to  D'Harmental,  "  Eaoul," 
said  she,  "  have  I  not  already  told  you  that  I  love  you ; 
that  I  never  have  loved  and  never  can  love  any  other 
than  you  1  It  seems  to  me  that  all  these  promises  you 
ask  are  included  in  those  words  ;  but  since  you  wish  them 
renewed,  I  repeat  them.  Your  life  shall  be  my  life, 
Raoul ;  your  death  shall  be  my  death.  Both  are  in  the 
hands  of  God.  May  the  will  of  God  be  done  on  earth  as 
it  is  in  heaven  ! " 

"  And  I,  Bathilde,"  said  D'Harmental,  leading  her  before 
the  crucifix,  "  I  swear  that  from  this  moment  you  are  my 
wife  before  God  and  before  men;  and  while  the  events 
which  may  dispose  of  my  life  leave  me  nothing  but  my 


436 

love  to  offer  to  you,  that  love  is  yours,  —  profound,  unal- 
terable, eternal.  Bathilde,  a  first  kiss  to  your  husband." 
The  two  lovers  fell  into  each  other's  arms,  and  exchanged 
their  first  kiss  while  they  renewed  their  vows. 

When  D'Harmental  left  Bathilde,  Buvat  had  not  re- 
turned. 


DAVID  AND  GOLIATH.  437 


CHAPTEK   XXXIX. 

DAVID     AND     GOLIATH. 

Toward  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning  the  Abbs'  Brigaud 
entered  D'Harmental's  room  ;  he  brought  him  twenty 
thousand  francs,  partly  in  gold,  partly  in  Spanish  paper. 
The  duchess  had  passed  the  night  at  the  Corntesse 
de  Chavigny's,  in  the  Rue  du  Mail.  The  plans  of  the 
preceding  day  were  in  no  degree  changed,  and  it  had 
been  ascertained  that  the  regent  would  pay  his  accustomed 
visit  to  Chelles.  At  ten  o'clock  Brigaud  and  D'Harmental 
went  down,  —  Brigaud  to  join  Pompadour  and  Valef  on 
the  Boulevard  du  Temple,  and  D'Harmental  to  visit 
Bathilde, 

Uneasiness  was  at  its  height  in  the  little  household. 
Buvat  was  still  absent ;  and  it  was  easy  to  see  by  Bathilde's 
eyes  that  she  had  slept  but  little,  and  had  wept  much. 
As  soon  as  she  saw  D'Harmental,  she  understood  that 
some  expedition  like  that  which  had  so  alarmed  her 
was  preparing.  D'Harmental  again  wore  that  dark  cos- 
tume in  which  she  had  never  seen  him  but  on  that 
evening  when,  on  returning,  he  had  thrown  his  mantle  on 
a  chair,  and  displayed  to  her  sight  the  pistols  in  his  belt. 
Moreover,  his  boots,  armed  with  spurs,  indicated  that  he 
expected  to  ride  during  the  day.  All  these  things  would 
have  appeared  insignificant  at  any  other  time ;  but  after 
the  scene  of  the  night  before,  after  the  nocturnal  betrothal 
we  have  described,  they  took  a  new  and  grave  importance. 
Bathilde  tried  at  first  to  make  the  chevalier  speak  ;  but  he 


438  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

told  her  that  the  secret  she  asked  did  not  belong  to  him- 
self, and  she  desisted. 

An  hour  after  D'Harmental's  arrival  Nanette  appeared 
with  an  expression  of  consternation  on  her  face.  She 
came  from  the  library ;  Buvat  had  not  been  there,  and 
no  one  had  heard  anything  of  him.  Bathilde  could  con- 
tain herself  no  longer;  she  fell  into  Eaoul's  arms,  and 
burst  into  tears. 

Then  Kaoul  confessed  to  her  his  fears  that  the  papers 
which  the  pretended  Prince  de  Listhnay  had  given  Buvat 
to  copy  were  papers  of  the  greatest  political  importance. 
Buvat  had  perhaps  been  compromised  and  arrested.  But 
Buvat  had  nothing  to  fear ;  the  passive  part  which  he  had 
played  in  this  affair  did  not  endanger  him  in  the  least. 

Bathilde,  having  feared  some  much  greater  misfortune, 
eagerly  seized  on  this  idea,  which  left  her  at  least  some 
hope.  She  did  not  confess  to  herself  that  the  greater 
part  of  her  uneasiness  was  not  for  Buvat,  and  that  all 
the  tears  she  had  shed  were  not  for  the  absent. 

When  D'Harmental  was  near  Bathilde,  time  appeared 
to  fly  •  he  thought  he  had  been  with  her  a  few  minutes 
only,  when  the  clock  struck  half-past  one.  Remember- 
ing that  at  two  o'clock  he  had  to  arrange  his  new  treaty 
with  Eoquefinette,  he  rose  to  go.  Bathilde  turned  pale. 
D'Harmental,  to  reassure  her,  promised  to  come  to  her 
again  after  the  departure  of  the  person  he  expected,  and 
for  whom  he  was  obliged  to  leave  her.  That  promise 
somewhat  tranquillized  the  poor  child,  who  tried  to  smile 
when  she  saw  what  deep  impression  her  sadness  made  on 
Raoul.  Twenty  times  they  renewed  the  vows  of  the  pre- 
vious night,  and  twenty  times  promised  to  be  devoted  to 
each  other.  They  parted  sorrowfully,  but  trusting  in 
each  other,  and  sure  of  their  mutual  love.  Besides,  as  we 
have  said,  they  thought  they  were  parting  for  only  an  hour. 


DAVID  AND  GOLIATH.  439 

The  chevalier  had  been  only  a  few  minutes  at  his 
window  when  he  saw  Eoquefinette  appear  at  the  corner 
of  the  Rue  Montmartre.  He  was  mounted  on  a  dapple- 
gray  horse,  both  swift  and  strong,  and  evidently  chosen 
by  a  connoisseur.  He  came  along  leisurely,  like  a  man 
who  is  indifferent  whether  he  is  seen  or  not.  On  arriving 
at  the  door,  he  dismounted,  fastened  his  horse,  and  as- 
cended the  stairs.  As  on  the  day  before,  his  face  was 
grave  and  pensive;  his  compressed  lips  indicated  some 
fixed  determination,  and  D'Harmental  received  him  with 
a  smile  which  met  with  no  answer  on  the  captain's  face. 
D'Harmental  at  a  glance  took  in  all  these  different  signs. 

"Well,  Captain,"  said  he,  "I  see  that  you  are  still 
punctuality  itself." 

"  It  is  a  military  habit,  Chevalier,  and  is  not  astonish- 
ing in  an  old  soldier." 

"  And  therefore  I  had  no  doubt  in  regard  to  you ;  but 
you  might  not  have  been  able  to  meet  your  men." 

u  I  told  you  I  knew  where  to  find  them." 

"  And  where  are  they  ? " 

"  In  the  horse-market  at  the  Porte  St.  Martin." 

"Are  you  not  afraid  they  will  be  noticed?" 

"  How  should  twelve  or  fifteen  men  dressed  as  peasants 
be  noticed  among  three  hundred  other  peasants,  buying 
and  selling  horses  1  It  is  like  a  needle  in  a  bottle  of  hay  ; 
none  but  myself  can  find  the  needle." 

"  But  how  can  these  men  accompany  you,  Captain  ? " 

"  The  simplest  thing  in  the  world.  Each  one  has  bar- 
gained for  the  horse  which  suits  him.  Each  one  has 
Offered  a  price,  to  which  the  vender  replies  by  another. 
I  arrive,  give  to  each  twenty-five  or  thirty  louis.  Every 
one  pays  for  his  horse,  has  it  saddled,  mounts,  slips  into 
the  holsters  the  pistols  which  he  has  in  his  belt,  and,  by 
a  different  route  from  those  taken  by  the  others,  arrives 


440  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

at  a  given  place  in  the  Bois  de  Vincennes  at  five  o'clock. 
Then  only  I  explain  to  them  for  what  they  are  wanted. 
I  again  distribute  money,  put  myself  at  the  head  of  my 
squadron,  and  we  strike  the  blow,  —  supposing  that  you 
and  I  agree  on  the  conditions." 

"Well,  these  conditions,  Captain,"  said  D'Harmental, 
"  let  us  discuss  them.  I  think  I  have  arranged  so  that 
you  will  be  satisfied  with  those  that  I  propose  to  you." 

"  Let  us  hear  them,"  said  Roquefinette,  sitting  down 
by  the  table. 

"First,  double  the  sum  you  received  last  time,"  said 
the  chevalier. 

"  Ah  !  "  said  Roquefinette,  "  I  do  not  care  for  money." 

"  What !  you  do  not  care  for  money,  Captain]" 

"  Not  the  least  in  the  world." 

"  What  do  you  care  for,  then  1 " 

"  A  position." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ? " 

"I  mean,  Chevalier,  that  every  day  I  am  four  and 
twenty  hours  older,  and  that  with  age  comes  philosophy." 

"  Well,  Captain,"  said  D'Harmental,  who  now  began  to 
be  seriously  uneasy,  "  what  is  the  ambition  of  your 
philosophy  1 " 

"I  have  told  you,  Chevalier.  A  position  suitable  to 
my  long  services,  —  not  in  France,  you  understand.  In 
France  I  have  too  many  enemies,  beginning  with  the 
lieutenant  of  police;  but  in  Spain,  for  instance.  Ah, 
that  would  suit  me  well.  A  fine  country,  beautiful 
women,  plenty  of  doubloons !  Decidedly,  I  should  like 
a  rank  in  Spain." 

"The  thing  is  possible;  it  depends  on  the  rank  you 
desire." 

"  Well,  you  know,  Chevalier,  when  one  is  wishing,  it  is 
as  well  to  wish  for  something  worth  the  trouble." 


DAVID  AND  GOLIATH.  ,441 

"  You  make  me  uneasy,  Monsieur,"  said  D'Harmental, 
"  for  I  have  not  the  seals  of  King  Philip,  to  sign  brevets 
in  his  name.     But  never  mind;  speak." 

"  Well,"  said  Roquefinette,  "I  see  so  many  greenhorns 
at  the  heads  of  regiments  that  I  also  have  thought  of 
being  a  colonel." 

"  Colonel  1     Impossible ! " 

"Why  so?" 

"  Because,  if  they  make  you  a  colonel,  you  who  only 
hold  a  secondary  position  in  the  affair,  what  am  I  to  ask, 
—  I,  who  am  at  the  head  1 " 

"  Very  well ;  what  I  mean  is  this  :  I  propose  that  we 
change  positions  for  the  moment.  You  remember  what  I 
said  to  you  on  a  certain  evening  in  the  Rue  de  Valois  ? " 

"Aid  my  memory,  Captain.  I  have  unfortunately 
forgotten." 

"  I  told  you  that  if  I  had  an  affair  like  this  to  manage, 
things  would  go  better.  I  added  that  I  would  speak  to 
you  of  it  again.     I  do  so  now." 

"What  the  devil  are  you  talking  about,  Captain?" 

"  A  simple  matter,  Chevalier.  We  made  a  first  attempt 
together,  which  failed.  Then  you  changed  batteries;  you 
thought  you  could  do  without  me,  and  you  failed  again. 
The  first  time  you  failed  at  night,  and  without  noise ;  we 
each  went  our  own  way,  and  there  was  nothing  known 
about  it.  The  second  time,  on  the  contrary,  you  failed  in 
broad  daylight,  and  with  an  eclat  which  has  compro- 
mised all ;  so  that  if  you  do  not  save  yourselves  by  a  bold 
stroke,  you  are  all  lost,  as  Dubois  has  your  names,  and 
to-morrow,  to-night  perhaps,  you  all  will  be  arrested, — 
knights,  barons,  dukes,  and  princes.  Now,  there  is  in  the 
world  one  man,  and  one  only,  who  can  free  you  from  your 
troubles.  That  man  is  Captain  Roquefinette;  and  you 
offer  him  the  same  place  he  held  before  !     You  try  to  bar- 


442  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

gain  with  him !  Fie,  Chevalier !  What  the  devil !  you 
understand, —  demands  increase  with  the  services  to  he 
rendered.  I  am  now  an  important  personage.  Treat  me 
as  such,  or  I  put  my  hands  in  my  pockets,  and  leave 
Dubois  to  do  as  he  likes." 

D'Harmental  bit  his  lips,  but  he  understood  that  he 
had  to  treat  with  a  man  who  was  accustomed  to  sell  his 
services  as  dear  as  possible ;  and  as  what  the  captain  said 
of  their  necessity  was  literally  true,  he  restrained  his 
impatience  and  his  pride. 

"So,  then,"  replied  D'Harmental,  "you  wish  to  be  a 
colonel  V9 

"  That  is  my  idea." 

"  But  suppose  I  make  you  this  promise,  who  can  answer 
that  I  have  influence  enough  to  ratify  it  % " 

"And  therefore,  Chevalier,  I  reckon  on  managing  my 
little  affairs  myself." 

"Where?" 

"At  Madrid." 

"Who  told  you  that  I  shall  take  you  there?" 

"  I  do  not  know  if  you  will  take  me  there  •>  but  I  know 
that  I  shall  go  there." 

"  You,  to  Madrid  !     What  for  % " 

"  To  convey  the  regent." 

"  You  are  mad ! " 

"  Come,  come,  Chevalier,  no  big  words.  You  ask  my 
conditions ;  I  tell  them  to  you.  They  do  not  suit  you. 
Good-evening.  We  are  not  the  worse  friends  for  that." 
And  Roquefinette  rose,  took  his  hat,  and  was  going  toward 
the  door. 

"  What !  are  you  going  % "  said  D'Harmental. 

"Certainly." 

"But  you  forget,  Captain  —  " 

"  Ah !  it  is  true,"  said  Roquefinette,  intentionally  mis- 


/ 


DAVID  AND  GOLIATH.  443 

taking  D'Harmental's  meaning ;  "  you  gave  me  a  hundred 
iouis.  I  must  give  you  an  account  of  them."  He  took 
his  purse  from  his  pocket.  "  A  horse,  thirty  louis ;  a  pair 
of  double-barrelled  pistols,  ten  louis ;  a  saddle,  bridle,  etc., 
two  louis, —  total,  forty-two  louis.  There  are  fifty-eight 
louis  in  this  purse ;  the  horse,  pistols,  saddle,  and  bridle 
are  yours.  Count ;  we  are  quits."  And  he  threw  the 
purse  on  the  table. 

"  But  that  is  not  what  I  have  to  say  to  you,  Captain." 

"What  is  it,  then1?" 

"  That  it  is  impossible  to  confide  to  you  a  mission  of 
such  importance." 

"It  must  be  so,  nevertheless,  or  not  at  all.  I  must 
convey  the  regent  to  Madrid,  and  I  alone,  or  he  remains 
at  the  Palais  Royal." 

"  And  you  think  yourself  worthy  to  take  from  the 
hands  of  Philippe  d'Orleans  the  sword  which  conquered 
at  L£rida  La  Pucelle,  and  which  rested  by  the  sceptre 
of  Louis  XIV.  on  the  velvet  cushion  with  the  golden 
tassels?" 

"I  heard  in  Italy  that  Francois  I.,  at  the  battle  of 
Pavia,  gave  up  his  to  a  butcher."  The  captain  pressed 
his  hat  on  his  head,  and  once  more  approached  the  door. 

"  Listen,  Captain,"  said  D'Harmental,  in  his  most  con- 
ciliating tone ;  "  a  truce  to  arguments  and  quotations.  Let 
us  split  the  difference.  I  will  conduct  the  regent  to  Spain, 
and  you  shall  accompany  me." 

"  Yes,  so  that  the  poor  captain  may  be  lost  in  the  dust 
raised  by  the  dashing  chevalier  ;  that  the  brilliant  colonel 
may  throw  the  old  trooper  into  the  shade !  Impossible, 
Chevalier,  impossible !  I  will  have  the  management  of 
the  affair,  or  I  will  have  nothing  to  do  with  it." 

"  But  this  is  treason !  "  cried  D'Harmental. 

"  Treason,  Chevalier !     And  where  have  you  seen,  if 


444  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

you  please,  that  Captain  Roquefinette  is  a  traitor  1  Where 
are  the  agreements  which  I  have  made  and  not  kept1? 
Where  are  the  secrets  which  I  have  divulged?  I,  a 
traitor !  Good  heavens,  Chevalier,  it  was  only  the  day 
before  yesterday  that  I  was  offered  my  weight  in  gold  to 
betray  you,  and  I  refused !  No,  no  !  Yesterday  you 
came  and  asked  me  to  aid  you  a  second  time.  I  told  you 
that  I  was  ready,  but  on  new  conditions.  Well,  I  have 
just  told  you  those  conditions.  Accept  them  or  refuse 
them.     Where  do  you  see  treason  in   all  this?" 

"  And  if  I  were  weak  enough  to  accept  these  conditions, 
Monsieur,  do  you  imagine  that  the  confidence  which  her 
royal  Highness  the  Duchesse  du  Maine  reposes  in  the 
Chevalier  d'Harmental  can  be  transferred  to  Captain 
Roquefinette  1 " 

"  What  the  devil  has  the  Duchesse  du  Maine  to  do  with 
all  this?  You  undertake  a  piece  of  business;  there  are 
material  hindrances  in  the  way  of  your  executing  it  your- 
self; you  hand  it  over  to  me,  —  that  is  all." 

"  That  is  to  say,"  answered  D'Harmental,  shaking  his 
head,  "  that  you  wish  to  be  free  to  loose  the  regent,  if  the 
regent  offers  you,  for  leaving  him  in  France,  twice  as 
much  as  I  offer  you  for  taking  him  to   Spain." 

"  Perhaps,"  replied  Roquefinette. 

"  Hearken,  Captain,"  said  D'Harmental,  making  a  new 
effort  to  retain  his  sang-froid,  and  endeavoring  to  renew 
the  negotiations,  "  I  will  give  you  twenty  thousand  francs 
down." 

"  Trash  ! "  answered  the  captain. 

"  I  will  take  you  with  me  to  Spain." 

u  Fiddlesticks  ! "  said  the  captain. 

"  And  I  engage  on  my  honor  to  obtain  you  a  regiment." 

Roquefinette  began  to  hum  a  tune. 

"Take  care,"  said  D'Harmental,  "it  is  more  dangerous 


DAVID  AND  GOLIATH.  445 

for  you  now,  at  the  point  at  which  we  have  arrived,  and 
with  the  terrible  secrets  which  you  know,  to  refuse  than 
to  accept." 

"And  what  will  happen,  then,  if  I  refuse?"  asked 
Roquefinette. 

"  It  will  happen,  Captain,  that  you  will  not  leave  this 
room." 

"  And  who  will  prevent  me  ? " 

"  I ! "  cried  D'Harmental,  bounding  before  the  door, 
a  pistol  in  each  hand. 

"Your'  said  Roquefinette,  making  a  step  toward  the 
chevalier,  and  then  crossing  his  arms  and  regarding  him 
fixedly. 

"  One  step  more,  Captain,"  said  the  chevalier,  "  and  I 
give  you  my  word  I  will  blow  out  your  brains." 

"  You  blow  out  my  brains,  you !  For  that  it  is 
necessary,  in  the  first  place,  that  you  should  not  tremble 
like  an  old  woman.  Do  you  know  what  you  will  do? 
You  will  miss  me;  the  noise  will  alarm  the  neighbors, 
who  will  call  the  guard,  and  they  will  question  me  as  to 
the  reasons  of  your  shooting  at  me,  and  I  shall  be  obliged 
to  tell  them." 

"  Yes,  you  are  right,  Captain,"  cried  the  chevalier,  un- 
cocking his  pistols,  and  replacing  them  in  his  belt,  "  and 
I  shall  be  obliged  to  kill  you  more  honorably  than  you 
deserve.     Draw,  Monsieur,  draw  ! " 

And  D'Harmental,  leaning  his  left  foot  against  the  door, 
drew  his  sword,  and  placed  himself  on  guard.  It  was  a 
court  sword,  a  thin  ribbon  of  steel,  set  in  a  gold  handle. 
Roquefinette  began  to  laugh. 

"  With  what  shall  I  defend  myself,  Chevalier  ?  Do  you 
happen  to  have  one  of  your  mistress's  knitting-needles 
here?" 

"Defend  yourself  with  your   own   sword,  Monsieur; 


446  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

long  as  it  is,  you  see  that  I  am  placed  so  that  I  cannot 
make  a  step  to  avoid  it." 

"  What  do  you  think  of  that,  my  dear  % "  said  the  cap- 
tain, addressing  his  blade. 

"It  thinks  that  you  are  a  coward,  Captain,"  cried 
D'Harmental,  "  since  it  is  necessary  to  strike  you  in  the 
lace  to  make  you  fight."  And  with  a  movement  as  quick 
as  lightning,  D'Harmental  cut  the  captain  across  the  face 
with  his  rapier,  leaving  on  the  cheek  a  long  blue  mark 
like  the  mark  of  a  whip. 

Roquefinette  gave  a  cry  which  might  have  been  taken 
for  the  roaring  of  a  lion,  and  bounding  back  a  step,  placed 
himself  on  guard,  his  sword  in  his  hand.  Then  began 
between  these  two  men  a  duel,  terrible,  furious,  silent, 
for  both  were  intent  on  their  work,  and  each  understood 
what  sort  of  an  adversary  he  had  to  contend  with.  By  a 
reaction  very  easy  to  be  understood,  it  was  now  D'Har- 
mental who  was  calm,  and  Roquefinette  who  was  excited. 
Every  instant  he  menaced  D'Harmental  with  his  long 
sword  ;  but  the  frail  rapier  followed  it  as  iron  follows  the 
loadstone,  twisting  round  it  like  a  viper.  At  the  end  of 
about  five  minutes  the  chevalier  had  not  made  a  single 
lunge,  but  had  parried  all  those  of  his  adversary.  At 
last,  on  a  more  rapid  thrust  than  the  others,  he  came  too 
late  to  parry,  and  felt  the  point  of  his  adversary's  sword 
at  his  breast.  At  the  same  time  a  red  spot  spread  from 
the  chevalier's  shirt  to  his  lace  frill.  D'Harmental  saw  it, 
and  with  a  spring  engaged  so  near  to  Roquefinette  that 
the  hilts  touched.  The  captain  instantly  perceived  the 
disadvantage  of  his  long  sword  in  such  a  position ;  a 
thrust  "sur  les  amies,"  and  he  was  lost.  He  made  a 
spring  backward,  his  foot  slipped  on  the  newly  waxed  floor, 
and  his  sword-hand  rose  in  spite  of  himself.  By  a  natural 
movement   D'Harmental   took  advantage   of  it,   lunged 


DAVID  AND  GOLIATH.  447 

within,  and  pierced  the  captain's  chest,  where  the  blade 
disappeared  to  the  hilt.  He  recovered  to  parry  in  return, 
but  the  precaution  was  needless ;  the  captain  stood  still 
an  instant,  opened  his  eyes  wildly,  dropped  his  sword, 
and  pressing  his  two  hands  to  the  wound,  fell  at  full 
length  on  the  floor. 

"  Curse  the  rapier ! "  he  murmured,  and  expired ;  the 
strip  of  steel  had  pierced  his  heart. 

Meanwhile,  D'Harmental  remained  on  guard,  with  hie 
eyes  fixed  on  the  captain,  lowering  his  sword  only  when 
the  dying  man  let  his  slip.  Finally,  he  found  himself 
face  to  face  with  a  corpse ;  but  this  corpse  had  its  eyes 
open,  and  continued  to  look  at  him.  Leaning  against  the 
door,  the  chevalier  remained  an  instant  thunderstruck; 
his  hair  bristled,  his  forehead  became  covered  with  per- 
spiration. He  did  not  dare  to  move ;  his  victory  seemed 
to  him  a  dream.  Suddenly  the  mouth  of  the  dying  man 
set  in  a  last  convulsion ;  the  partisan  was  dead,  and  his 
secret  had  died  with  hi  in. 

How  to  recognize,  in  the  midst  of  three  hundred 
peasants,  buying  and  selling  horses,  the  twelve  or  fifteen 
pretended  ones  who  were  to  carry  off  the  regent? 

D'Harmental  uttered  a  low  cry ;  he  would  have  given 
ten  years  of  his  own  life  to  add  ten  minutes  to  that  of  the 
captain.  He  took  the  body  in  his  arms,  raised  it,  called 
it,  and  startled  on  seeing  his  reddened  hands,  let  it  fall 
into  a  sea  of  blood,  which,  following  the  inclination  of  the 
boards  down  a  channel  in  the  floor,  reached  the  door,  and 
began  to  spread  over  the  threshold. 

At  that  moment  the  horse,  which  was  tied  to  the 
shutter,  neighed  violently.  D'Harmental  made  three 
steps  toward  the  door ;  then  he  remembered  that  Roque- 
finette  might  have  some  memorandum  about  him  which 
would  serve  as  a  guide.     In  spite  of  his  repugnance,  he 


448  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

searched  the  pockets  of  the  corpse,  one  after  another ;  but 
the  only  papers  he  found  were  two  or  three  old  bills  of 
fare,  and  a  love-letter  from  La  Normande. 

Then  as  he  had  nothing  more  to  do  in  that  room,  he 
filled  his  pockets  with  gold  and  notes,  closed  the  door 
after  him,  descended  the  stairs  rapidly,  leaped  upon  the 
impatient  horse,  set  off  at  a  gallop  toward  the  Rue 
Gros-Chenet,  and  disappeared  round  the  angle  nearest 
to  the  Boulevard. 


THE  SAVIOR  OF  FRANCE.  449 


CHAPTEE    XL. 

THE     SAVIOR    OF     FRANCS. 

While  this  terrible  catastrophe  was  occurring  in  the  attic 
of  Madame  Denis's  house,  Bathilde,  uneasy  at  seeing  her 
neighbor's  window  so  long  shut,  had  opened  hers,  and  the 
first  thing  she  saw  was  the  dappled-gray  horse  attached 
to  the  shutter ;  but  as  she  had  not  seen  the  captain  go  in, 
she  thought  that  the  steed  was  for  Raoul,  and  that  reflec- 
tion immediately  reawakened  her  fears.  She  consequently 
remained  at  the  window,  looking  in  every  direction,  and 
trying  to  read  in  the  physiognomy  of  every  passer-by 
whether  that  individual  was  an  actor  in  the  mysterious 
drama  which  was  preparing,  and  in  which  she  instinc- 
tively understood  that  Raoul  was  to  play  the  chief  part. 
She  remained,  then,  with  a  beating  heart,  her  neck 
stretched  out,  and  her  eyes  wandering  hither  and  thither, 
when  suddenly  her  restless  glances  were  fixed  in  one 
direction.  At  the  same  moment  the  young  girl  uttered  v. 
a  cry  of  joy,  for  she  saw  Buvat  coming  round  the  corner 
from  the  Rue  Montmartre.  Indeed,  it  was  the  worthy 
caligraphist  in  person,  who,  looking  behind  him  from 
time  to  time  as  if  he  feared  pursuit,  advanced  with  his 
cane  extended  horizontally,  and  at  a  pace  as  rapid  as 
his  short  legs  would  allow. 

While  he  enters,  and  embraces  his  ward,  let  us  look 
back  and  relate  the  causes  of  that  absence  which,  we  are 
sure,  has  brought  as  much  uneasiness  to  our  readers  as  it 
brought  to  poor  Bathilde  and  the  good  Nanette. 


450  LE  CHEVALIER  'D'HARMENTAL. 

It  will  be  remembered  that  Buvat,  driven  by  fear  of 
torture  to  the  revelation  of  the  conspiracy,  had  been 
forced  by  Dubois  to  make  every  day,  at  his  house,  a 
copy  of  the  documents  which  the  pretended  Prince  de 
Listhnay  had  given  him.  It  was  thus  that  the  minister 
of  the  regent  had  successively  learned  all  the  projects  of 
the  conspirators,  which  he  had  defeated  by  the  arrest  of 
Marechal  de  Villeroy,  and  by  the  convocation  of  parliament. 

Monday  morning  Buvat  had  arrived  as  usual  with  new 
packages  of  papers  which  D'Avranches  had  given  him  the 
day  before.  They  comprised  a  manifesto  prepared  by 
Malezieux  and  Pompadour,  and  letters  from  the  chief 
noblemen  of  Bretagne,  who,  as  we  have  seen,  supported 
the  conspiracy.  Buvat  applied  himself  to  his  work  with 
his  usual  diligence ;  but  about  four  o'clock,  as  he  rose 
and  took  his  hat  in  one  hand  and  his  cane  in  the  other, 
Dubois  came  in  and  invited  him  to  go  up  with  him  to  a 
little  room  above  that  where  he  had  been  working,  and 
having  arrived  there,  asked  him  what  he  thought  of  the 
apartment.  Flattered  by  this  deference  of  the  prime  min- 
ister to  his  judgment,  Buvat  hastened  to  reply  that  he 
thought  it  very  pleasant. 

"  So  much  the  better,"  answered  Dubois  ;  "  and  I  am 
very  glad  that  it  is  to  your  taste,  for  it  is  yours." 

"  Mine !  "  cried  Buvat,  astonished. 

"  Certainly ;  is  it  astonishing  that  I  should  wish  to 
have  under  my  hand,  or  rather  under  my  eyes,  a  person- 
age as  important  as  yourself1?" 

"  But,"  asked  Buvat,  "  am  I  then  going  to  live  in  the 
Palais  Royal  1" 

"  For  some  days,  at  any  rate,"  answered  Dubois. 

"  Monseigneur,  let  me  at  least  inform  Bathilde." 

"That  is  just  the  thing  to  be  prevented;  Bathilde 
must  not  be  informed." 


THE  SAVIOR  OF  FRANCE.  451 

"  But  you  will  permit  that  the  first  time  I  go  out  —  " 

"  As  long  as  you  remain  here,  you  will  not  go  out." 

"  But,"  cried  Buvat,  with  terror, "  I  am,  then,  a  prisoner  1 " 

"  A  State  prisoner,  as  you  have  said,  my  dear  Buvat. 
But  calm  yourself ;  your  captivity  will  not  continue  long, 
and  while  it  lasts  we  will  bestow  on  you  all  the  attentions 
that  are  due  to  the  savior  of  France  ;  for  you  have  saved 
France,  Monsieur  Buvat." 

"  I  have  saved  France,"  cried  Buvat,  "  and  am  a  pris- 
oner under  bolts  and  bars !  " 

"  And  where  the  devil  do  you  see  bolts  and  bars,  my 
dear  Buvat  1 "  said  Dubois,  laughing.  "  The  door  shuts 
with  a  latch,  and  has  not  even  a  lock ;  as  to  the  window, 
yours  looks  on  the  gardens  of  the  Palais  Royal,  and  has 
not  even  the  least  little  lattice  to  intercept  the  view,  —  a 
superb  view.     You  are  lodged  here  like  the  regent  himself." 

"  Oh,  my  little  room  !  Oh,  my  terrace  ! "  murmured 
Buvat,  falling  back   despairingly  into  an  armchair. 

Dubois,  who  had  other  things  to  do  than  to  console 
Buvat,  went  out,  and  placed  a  sentinel   at  the  door. 

The  explanation  of  this  step  is  easy.  Dubois  feared 
that,  seeing  the  arrest  of  Villeroy,  the  conspirators  would 
suspect  from  what  source  the  information  came ;  and  that 
Buvat,  on  being  questioned,  would  confess  that  he  had  di- 
vulged everything.  This  confession  doubtless  would  have 
arrested  the  conspirators  in  the  midst  of  their  schemes, 
which,  on  the  contrary,  Dubois,  informed  beforehand  of 
all  their  plans,  wished  to  see  carried  to  a  point,  so  that 
he  might  make  an  end,  once  for  all,  of  these  little 
conspiracies. 

Toward  eight  o'clock  in  the  evening,  Buvat  heard  a 
great  noise  at  his  door,  and  a  sort  of  metallic  clashing, 
which  did  not  tend  to  reassure  him.  He  had  heard  many 
lamentable  stories  of  State  prisoners  who  had  been  assassi' 


452  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

nated  in  their  prisons,  and  he  rose,  trembling,  and  ran  to 
the  window.  The  court  and  gardens  of  the  Palais  Royal 
were  full  of  people  the  galleries  began  to  be  illumir  ated ; 
the  whole  scene  was  full  of  movement,  gayety,  and  light. 
He  heaved  a  profound  sigh,  thinking  that  perhaps  he 
must  soon  bid  adieu  to  that  world  of  life  and  activity. 
At  that  instant  the  door  was  opened ;  Buvat  turned  round, 
shuddering,  and  saw  two  tall  footmen  in  red  livery  bring- 
ing in  a  well-supplied  table.  The  metallic  noise  which 
had  so  much  disturbed  him  had  been  the  clattering  of  the 
silver  plates  and  dishes. 

Buvat's  first  impulse  was  to  give  thanks  to  God  that 
a  danger  so  imminent  as  that  into  which  he  thought  he 
had  fallen  was  transformed  into  a  situation  apparently  so 
tolerable;  but  almost  immediately  the  idea  occurred  to 
him  that  the  deadly  intentions  entertained  against  him 
were  still  the  same,  and  that  only  the  mode  of  their  execu- 
tion was  changed.  Instead  of  being  assassinated,  like 
Jeansans-Peur,  or  the  Due  de  Guise,  he  was  to  be 
poisoned,  like  the  Dauphin,  or  the  Due  de  Burgundy. 
He  threw  a  rapid  glance  on  the  two  footmen,  and  thought 
he  observed  in  them  a  certain  sinister  appearance  which 
marked  them  as  the  agents  of  a  secret  vengeance.  Prom 
this  instant  his  determination  was  taken ;  and  in  spite  of 
the  scent  of  the  dishes,  which  appeared  to  him  only  an 
additional  allurement,  he  refused  all  sustenance,  saying 
majestically  that  he  was  neither  hungry  nor  thirsty. 

The  lackeys  looked  at  each  other  knowingly.  They 
were  sharp  fellows,  and  had  understood  Buvat's  character 
at  a  glance  ;  and  not  understanding  how  a  man  should 
not  be  hungry  when  before  a  pheasant  stuffed  with  truffles, 
or  thirsty  before  a  bottle  of  chambertin,  they  had  pene- 
trated the  prisoner's  fears  pretty  quickly.  They  ex* 
changed  a  few  words  in  a  low  tone ;  and  the  bolder  of 


THE  SAVIOR  OF  FRANCE.  453 

the  two,  seeing  a  way  of  drawing  some  profit  from  the 
circumstances,  advanced  toward  Buvat,  who  recoiled  be- 
fore him  as  far  as  the  chimney,  which  prevented  his 
receding  farther. 

"Monsieur,"  said  he,  in  a  reassuring  tone,  "we  under- 
stand your  fears ;  and  as  we  are  honest  servants,  we  will 
show  you  that  we  are  incapable  of  lending  ourselves  to 
the  dealings  which  you  suspect.  During  the  time  that 
you  remain  here,  my  comrade  and  I,  each  in  turn,  will 
taste  all  the  dishes  which  are  brought  you,  and  all  the 
wines  which  are  sent  in,  happy  if  by  our  devotion  we 
can  restore  your  tranquillity." 

"Monsieur,"  answered  Buvat,  ashamed  that  his  secret 
sentiments  had  been  discovered  thus,  —  "  Monsieur,  you  are 
very  polite,  but  in  truth  I  am  neither  hungry  nor  thirsty." 

"  Never  mind,  Monsieur,"  said  the  man ;  "  as  my  com- 
rade and  myself  desire  not  to  leave  the  smallest  doubt  on 
your  mind,  we  will  make  the  test  we  have  promised  you. 
Comtois,  my  friend,"  continued  the  fellow,  sitting  down 
in  the  place  which  had  been  intended  for  Buvat,  "do  me 
the  favor  to  help  me  to  a  little  of  that  soup,  a  wing  of 
that  pullet  in  rice,  and  two  fingers  of  that  chambertin. 
There  ;  that  is  right.     To  your  health,  Monsieur  !  " 

"  Monsieur,"  said  Buvat,  opening  his  eyes,  and  looking 
at  the  footman  who  was  dining  so  impudently  in  his 
stead,  —  "  Monsieur,  it  is  I  who  am  your  servant ;  T  would 
like  to  know  your  name,  in  order  to  preserve  it  in  my 
memory  by  the  side  of  that  of  the  good  jailer  who  gave  to 
Come  l'Ancien  a  proof  of  devotion  like  that  which  you 
give  me.  That  incident  is  narrated  in  'La  Morale  en 
Action,'  Monsieur,"  continued  Buvat,  "and  T  take  it 
upon  myself  to  say  to  you  that  you  are  in  all  respects 
worthy  of  a  place  in  that  book." 

"  Monsieur,"  answered  the  valet,  modestly,  "  I  am  called 


454  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

Bourguignon,  and  this  is  my  comrade  Comtois,  whose 
turn  for  devotion  will  come  to-morrow,  and  who,  when 
the  moment  shall  have  arrived,  will  not  be  behindhand. 
Comtois,  my  friend,  a  slice  of  that  pheasant,  and  a  glass 
of  champagne.  Do  you  not  see  that  in  order  to  reassure 
Monsieur  completely,  I  must  taste  everything  ?  It  is  a 
severe  test,  I  know,  but  where  would  be  the  merit  of 
being  an  honest  man  if  it  did  not  sometimes  bring  trials 
like  the  present  1     To  your  health,  Monsieur  Buvat ! " 

"  Heaven  preserve  yours,  Monsieur  Bourguignon  !  " 

"Now,  Comtois,  hand  me  the  dessert,  so  that  I  may 
leave  no  doubt  on  Monsieur  Buvat's  mind." 

"  Monsieur  Bourguignon,  I  beg  you  to  believe  that  if  I 
had  any  doubts,  they  are  completely  dissipated." 

"  No,  Monsieur,  no ;  I  beg  your  pardon,  you  still  have 
some.  Comtois,  my  friend,  now  the  hot  coffee,  yery  hot ; 
I  wish  to  drink  it  exactly  as  Monsieur  would  have  desired 
it  to  be,  and  I  presume  it  is  thus  that  Monsieur  likes  it." 

"  Boiling,  Monsieur,  boiling,"  answered  Buvat,  bowing. 

"  Ah  ! "  said  Bourguignon,  sipping  his  coffee,  and  raising 
his  eyes  ecstatically  to  the  ceiling,  "  you  are  right,  Mon- 
sieur. It  is  only  so  that  coffee  is  good  ;  cold,  it  is  a  very 
ordinary  beverage.  This,  I  may  say,  is  excellent.  Comtois, 
my  friend,  receive  my  compliments ;  you  wait  admirably. 
Now  help  me  to  take  away  the  table.  You  know  there 
is  nothing  more  unpleasant  than  the  smell  of  wines  and 
viands  to  those  who  are  not  hungry  or  thirsty.  Mon- 
sieur," continued  Bourguignon,  stepping  toward  the  door, 
which  he  had  kept  carefully  shut  during  the  repast,  and 
which  he  opened  while  his  companion  pushed  forward  the 
table,  — "  Monsieur,  if  you  have  need  of  anything,  you 
have  three  bells,  one  at  the  head  of  your  bed,  and  two  at 
the  mantel-piece.  Those  at  the  mantel-piece  are  for  us, 
that  at  the  bed  for  your  valet-de-chambre." 


THE  SAVIOR  OF  FRANCE.  455 

"  Thank  you,  Monsieur,"  said  Buvat ;  "  you  are  too 
good.     I  do  not  wish  to  disturb  any  one." 

"  Do  not  trouble  yourself  about  that,  Monsieur ; 
Monseigneur  desires  that  you  should  make  yourself  at 
home." 

"  Monseigneur  is  very  polite." 

"  Does  Monsieur  require  anything  else  % " 

"  Nothing  more,  my  friend,  nothing  more,"  said  Buvat, 
touched  by  so  much  devotion ;  "  nothing  except  to  express 
my  gratitude." 

"  I.  have  only  done  my  dut}^  Monsieur,"  answered  Bour- 
guignon,  modestly,  bowing  for  the  last  time,  and  shutting 
the  door. 

"  Upon  my  word ! "  said  Buvat,  following  Bourguignon 
with  his  eyes,  "  it  must  be  allowed  that  some  proverbs  are 
great  liajs.  They  say,  '  As  insolent  as  a  lackey,'  and  yet 
here  is  an  individual  in  the  exercise  of  that  calling  who  is 
politeness  itself.  I  shall  never  believe  in  proverbs  again, 
or  rather,  I  shall  make  distinctions  among  them."  And 
making  himself  this  promise,  Buvat  found  himself  alone. 

Nothing  makes  a  man  so  hungry  as  the  sight  of  a  good 
dinner,  of  which  the  odor  only  comes  to  him.  That  which 
had  just  been  eaten  under  the  good  man's  very  eyes  sur- 
passed in  luxury  everything  that  he  had  ever  dreamed 
of,  and  he  began  —  influenced  by  the  decided  calls  of  his 
stomach  —  to  reproach  himself  for  his  too  great  distrust 
of  his  persecutors ;  but  it  was  too  late.  Buvat,  it  is  true, 
might  have  rung  for  Monsieur  Bourguignon,  or  for  Mon- 
sieur Comtois,  and  requested  a  second  dinner ;  but  he  was 
of  too  timid  a  character  for  that,  and  the  result  was  that 
he  had  to  search  his  stock  of  proverbs  for  one  the  most 
consoling,  and  having  found,  between  his  situation  and 
the  proverb,  "  He  who  sleeps  dines,"  an  analogy  which 
seemed   to   him   most   direct,  he  resolved  to  heed  that 


456  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

proverb,  and  as  he  could  not  dine,  to  endeavor  at  least 
to  sleep. 

But  at  the  moment  of  taking  this  resolution,  Buvat 
found  himself  assailed  by  new  fears.  Could  they  not 
profit  by  his  sleep  to  despatch  him  ?  The  night  is  the 
time  of  ambushes.  He  had  often  heard  his  mother  tell 
of  beds  which,  by  the  lowering  of  their  canopies,  smoth- 
ered the  unfortunate  sleeper ;  of  beds  which  sank  through 
a  trap  so  quietly  as  not  to  wake  the  occupant;  finally, 
of  secret  doors  opening  in  walls  and  even  in  furniture,  to 
give  entrance  to  assassins.  This  sumptuous  dinner,  these 
rich  wines,  —  had  they  not  been  sent  him  to  insure  a 
sounder  sleep  1  All  this  was  possible,  to  say  the  least ; 
and  therefore  Buvat,  in  whom  the  instinct  of  self-preser- 
vation was  strongly  developed,  took  his  candle,  and  began 
a  most  minute  investigation.  After  opening  the  doors 
of  all  the  cupboards,  pulling  out  all  the  drawers  of  the 
bureaus,  and  sounding  all  the  panelling,  Buvat  had  gone 
down  on  his  hands  and  feet,  and  was  stretching  his  head 
timidly  under  the  bed,  when  he  thought  he  heard  steps 
behind  him.  His  position  was  such  that  he  was  unable 
to  act  on  the  defensive ;  he  therefore  remained  motionless, 
and  waited  with  a  beating  heart.  After  a  few  seconds 
of  solemn  silence, — 

"  Pardon,"  said  a  voice  which  made  Buvat  tremble, 
"  but  is  not  Monsieur  looking  for  his  night-cap  1 " 

Buvat  was  discovered ;  there  was  no  way  of  escaping 
the  danger,  if  danger  there  was.  He  therefore  drew  his 
head  from  under  the  bed,  took  his  candle,  and  remaining 
on  his  knees,  as  in  a  humble  and  beseeching  posture,  he 
turned  toward  the  individual  who  had  just  addressed  him, 
and  found  himself  face  to  face  with  a  man  dressed  in 
black,  and  carrying,  folded  up  on  his  arm,  many  articles 
which  Buvat  thought  he  recognized  as  things  to  wear. 


$s$& 


THE  SAVIOR  OF  FRANCE.  457 

"Yes,  Monsieur,"  said  he,  seizing  the  opening  which 
was  offered  to  him  with  a  presence  of  mind  on  which  he 
secretly  congratulated  himself,  "that  is  just  what  I  am 
looking  for  j  is  that  search  forbidden  1  " 

"  Why  did  not  Monsieur,  instead  of  troubling  himself, 
ring  the  bell  1  I  have  the  honor  to  be  appointed  Mon- 
sieur's valet-de-chambre,  and  I  have  brought  him  a  night- 
cap and   night-shirt." 

And  with  these  words  the  valet-de-chambre  spread  out 
on  the  bed  a  night-shirt  embroidered  with  flowers,  a  cap 
of  the  finest  lawn,  and  a  rose-colored  ribbon.  Buvat,  still 
on  his  knees,  regarded  him  with  the  greatest  astonishment. 

"  Now,"  said  the  valet-de-chambre,  "  will  Monsieur  allow 
me  to  help  him  to  undress  1  " 

"No,  Monsieur,  no,"  said  Buvat,  whose  modesty  was 
easily  alarmed,  but  accompanying  the  refusal  with  the 
sweetest  smile  he  could  assume.  "  No,  I  am  accustomed 
to  undress  myself.     I  thank  you,  Monsieur." 

The  valet-de-chambre  retired,  and  Buvat  remained  alone. 

As  the  inspection  of  the  room  was  completed,  and  as  his 
increasing  hunger  rendered  sleep  more  necessary,  Buvat 
with  a  sigh  began  to  undress,  placed,  in  order  not  to  be 
left  in  the  dark,  a  candle  on  the  corner  of  the  chimney- 
piece,  and  sprang,  with  a  groan,  into  the  softest  and 
warmest  bed  he  had  ever  known. 

But  the  bed  does  not  insure  sleep ;  and  that  is  an 
axiom  which  Buvat  might  have  added,  from  experience, 
to  the  list  of  his  veracious  proverbs.  By  reason  either  of 
his  fears  or  of  his  hunger,  Buvat  passed  a  very  disturbed 
night,  and  it  was  not  till  near  morning  that  he  fell  asleep ; 
even  then  his  slumbers  were  visited  by  the  most  absurd 
and  frightful  nightmares.  He  had  just  dreamed  of  being 
poisoned  by  a  leg  of  mutton,  when  the  valet-de-chambre 
entered,  and  asked  at  what  time  he  would  like  breakfast. 


458  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

This  question  was  so  pertinent  as  a  sequel  to  his  dream 
that  Buvat  shuddered  from  head  to  foot  at  the  idea  of 
eating  the  least  thing.  He  answered  with  a  sort  of  sup- 
pressed groan,  which  doubtless  seemed  to  the  valet-de- 
chambre  to  have  some  meaning  ;  for  he  immediately 
withdrew,  saying  that  Monsieur  was  about  to  be  served. 

Buvat  was  not  in  the  habit  of  breakfasting  in  bed,  so 
he  rose  quickly  and  dressed  in  haste.  He  had  just  fin- 
ished, when  Messieurs  Bourguignon  and  Comtois  entered, 
bringing  the  breakfast,  as  the  day  before  they  had  brought 
the  dinner. 

Then  took  place  a  repetition  of  the  scene  which  we 
have  before  related,  with  the  exception  that  now  it  was 
Monsieur  Comtois  who  ate  and  Monsieur  Bourguignon 
who  waited ;  but  when  they  came  to  the  coffee,  and  Buvat, 
who  had  taken  nothing  for  twenty-four  hours,  saw  his 
dearly  loved  beverage,  after  having  passed  from  the  silver 
coffee-pot  into  the  porcelain  cup,  pass  into  the  mouth  of 
Monsieur  Comtois,  he  could  hold  out  no  longer,  and  de- 
clared that  his  stomach  demanded  to  be  amused  with 
something,  and  that  consequently  he  desired  that  they 
would  leave  him  the  coffee  and  a  roll.  This  declaration 
appeared  to  disturb  the  devotion  of  Monsieur  Comtois, 
who  was  nevertheless  compelled  to  limit  himself  to  a 
single  cup  of  the  odoriferous  liquid,  the  remainder  of 
which,  together  with  a  roll  and  the  sugar,  was  placed  on 
a  little  table,  while  the  two  scamps  carried  off  the  rest 
of  the  feast,  laughing  in   their  sleeves. 

Scarcely  was  the  door  closed,  when  Buvat  darted  toward 
the  little  table,  and  without  even  waiting  to  dip  one  into 
the  other,  ate  the  bread  and  drank  the  coffee ;  then,  a  little 
comforted  by  that  repast,  insufficient  as  it  was,  he  began 
to  look  at  things  in  a  less  sinister  light. 

In   truth,   Buvat  was   not  wanting   in  a  certain  good 


THE  SAVIOR  OF  FRANCE.  459 

sense,  and  as  he  had  passed  the  preceding  evening  and 
night  and  entered  on  the  present  morning  without  inter- 
ference, he  began  to  understand  that  though  for  some 
political  purpose  his  oppressors  had  deprived  him  of  his 
liberty,  they  were  far  from  wishing  to  shorten  his  days ; 
that,  on  the  contrary,  they  were  bestowing  upon  him 
attentions  of  which  he  had  never  before  been  the  object,  — 
for  in  spite  of  himself,  Buvat  was  susceptible  to  the 
seductive  power  of  luxury,  which  insinuates  itself  through 
all  the  pores,  and  expands  the  heart.  He  had  seen  that 
the  dinner  of  the  day  before  was  better  than  his  ordinary 
dinner ;  that  the  bed  was  softer  than  his  ordinary  bed ; 
that  the  coffee  he  had  just  drunk  possessed  an  aroma 
which  the  mixture  of  chiccory  took  away  from  his  ; 
and  he  could  not  conceal  from  himself  that  the  elastic 
couches  and  stuffed  chairs  which  he  had  sat  upon  for  the 
last  twenty-four  hours  were  much  preferable  to  the  hair 
sofa  and  cane  chairs  of  his  own  establishment.  The  only 
thing,  then,  which  remained  to  trouble  him,  was  the  un- 
easiness which  Bathilde  would  feel  at  his  not  returning. 
He  had  for  an  instant  the  idea,  not  daring  to  renew  the 
request  which  he  had  made  to  Dubois  the  day  before,  that 
he  might  send  some  message  to  his  ward,  of  imitating 
the  man  with  the  iron  mask,  who  had  thrown  a  silver 
plate  from  the  window  of  his  prison  to  the  shore,  by 
throwing  a  letter  from  his  balcony  into  the  courtyard  of 
the  Palais  Royal ;  but  he  knew  what  a  fatal  result  this 
infraction  of  the  will  of  Monsieur  de  Saint-Mars  had  had 
for  the  unfortunate  prisoner,  and  he  feared  therefore  that 
he  might  increase,  by  an  act  of  that  kind,  the  rigors  of  his 
captivity,  which  at  present  seemed  to  him   tolerable. 

The  result  of  all  these  reflections  was  that  Buvat  got 
through  the  morning  with  much  less  agitation  than  he 
had  experienced  during  the  night  and  the  preceding  even- 


460  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

ing.  Moreover,  his  stomach,  appeased  by  the  coffee  and 
the  roll,  imposed  on  him  only  that  slight  measure  of 
appetite  which  when  one  is  sure  of  a  good  dinner  is  but 
an  additional  source  of  pleasure.  Add  to  all  this  the  par- 
ticularly cheerful  view  which  the  prisoner  had  from  his 
window,  and  it  will  be  easily  understood  that  he  passed 
the  hours  till  one  o'clock  without  an  excess  of  grief  or 
of  ennui. 

Exactly  at  one  o'clock  the  door  opened,  and  the  table 
reappeared,  ready  laid,  and  brought,  as  on  the  day  before 
and  that  morning,  by  the  two  valets.  But  this  time  it  was 
neither  Monsieur  Bourguignon  nor  Monsieur  Comtois  who 
sat  down  to  it.  Buvat  declared  himself  perfectly  reas- 
sured concerning  the  intentions  of  his  august  host ;  he 
thanked  Messieurs  Comtois  and  Bourguignon  for  the  de- 
votion of  which  each  in  turn  had  given  him  a  proof,  and 
begged  them  to  wait  upon  him  in  their  turn.  The  two 
servants  made  wry  faces,   but  obeyed. 

It  will  be  understood  that  the  happy  disposition  in 
which  Buvat  now  was  became  more  beatific  under  the 
influence  of  a  good  dinner.  Buvat  ate  from  all  the  dishes, 
drank  of  all  the  wines,  and  at  last,  having  slowly  imbibed  a 
cup  of  coffee,  — a  luxury  in  which  he  was  wont  to  indulge 
only  on  Sundays,  —  and  having  swallowed  on  the  top  of 
the  Arabian  nectar  a  glass  of  Madame  Anfoux's  liqueur, 
he  was,  it  must  be  confessed,  in  a  state  bordering  upon 
ecstasy. 

That  evening  the  supper  was  equally  successful ;  but  as 
Buvat  abandoned  himself  rather  more  freely  than  at  din- 
ner to  the  consumption  of  chambertin  and  sillery,  about 
eight  o'clock  in  the  evening  he  found  himself  in  a  state  of 
contentment  impossible  to  describe.  The  consequence 
was  that  when  the  valet-de-chambre  entered,  instead  of 
finding  him,  as  on  the  evening  before,  on  his  hands  and 


THE  SAVIOR  OF  FRANCE.  461 

knees,  with  his  head  under  the  bed,  he  found  him  seated 
in  a  comfortable  armchair,  his  feet  on  the  hobs,  his  head 
leaning  back,  his  eyes  winking,  while  he  sang  in  a  low 
tone  and  with  an  expression  of  infinite  tenderness : 
"  Then  let  me  go, 

And  let  me  play, 

Beneath  the  hazel-tree." 

These  were  obvious  indications  of  a  great  improvement 
in  the  state  of  the  worthy  writer  since  the  evening  before. 
Moreover,  when  the  valet-de-chambre  offered  to  help  him 
to  undress,  Buvat,  who  found  a  slight  difficulty  in  express- 
ing his  thoughts,  contented  himself  with  smiling  in  sign 
of  approbation  ;  then  he  extended  his  .arms  to  have  his 
coat  taken  off,  and  then  his  legs  to  have  his  slippers  re- 
moved. But  in  spite  of  his  state  of  exaltation,  it  is  only 
just  to  Buvat  to  say  that  his  natural  reserve  did  not  per- 
mit a  more  complete  abandonment,  and  it  was  only  when 
he  found  himself  alone  that  he  laid  aside  the  rest  of  his 
garments. 

This  time,  contrary  to  what  he  had  done  the  night 
before,  he  stretched  himself  out  luxuriously  in  his  bed, 
fell  asleep  in  five  minutes,  and  dreamed  that  he  was  the 
Grand  Turk,  and  that,  like  King  Solomon,  he  had  three 
hundred  wives  and  five  hundred  concubines.  We  hasten 
to  say  that  this  was  the  only  dream  of  a  somewhat  too 
lively  character  that  visited  the  modest  Buvat  in  the 
course  of  his  chaste  life. 

In  the  morning  Buvat  awoke  as  fresh  as  a  rose,  having 
only  one  trouble,  —  the  thought  of  Bathilde's  anxiety  ; 
otherwise  he  was  perfectly  happy. 

It  may  easily  be  imagined  that  the  breakfast  did  not 
lessen  his  good  spirits.  On  the  contrary,  being  informed 
that  he  might  write  to  Monsieur  the  Archbishop  of  Cambrai, 
he  asked  for  paper  and  ink,  which  were  brought  him,  took 


462  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

from  his  pocket  his  penknife,  which  never  left  him,  cut 
his  pen  with  the  greatest  care,  and  began,  in  his  finest 
writing,  a  most  touching  request  that  if  his  captivity  was 
to  be  prolonged,  Bathilde  might  be  sent  for  or  at  least 
that  she  might  be  informed  that  except  his  liberty  he 
was  in  want  of  nothing,  thanks  to  the  kindness  of  Mon- 
seigneur  the  prime  minister 

This  request,  to  the  caligraphy  of  which  Buvat  had  de- 
voted no  little  care,  and  whose  capital  letters  represented 
different  plants,  trees,  or  animals,  occupied  the  worthy 
writer  from  breakfast  till  dinner.  On  sitting  down  to 
table,  he  gave  the  note  to  Bourguignon,  who  charged  himself 
with  carrying  it  to  the  prime  minister,  saying  that  Comtois 
would  wait  during  his  absence.  In  a  quarter  of  an  hour 
Bourguignon  returned,  and  informed  Buvat  that  Mon- 
seigneur  had  gone  out,  but  that  in  his  absence  the  peti- 
tion had  been  given  to  the  person  who  aided  him  in  his 
public  affairs,  and  that  person  had  requested  that  Monsieur 
Buvat  would  come  and  see  him  as  soon  as  he  had  finished 
his  dinner,  but  hoped  that  Monsieur  would  not  in  any 
degree  hurry  himself,  since  he  who  made  the  request  was 
himself  at  dinner.  In  accordance  with,  this  permission, 
Buvat  took  his  time,  feasted  on  the  best  cookery,  imbibed 
the  most  generous  wines,  sipped  his  coffee,  played  with 
his  glass  of  liqueur,  and  then  —  the  last  operation  com- 
pleted —  declared  in  a  resolute  tone  that  he  was  ready  to 
appear  before  the  substitute  of  the  prime  minister. 

The  sentinel  had  received  orders  to  let  him  pass ;  and 
Buvat,  conducted  by  Bourguignon,  passed  proudly  by 
him.  For  some  time  they  followed  a  long  corridor,  then 
descended  a  staircase ;  at  last  the  footman  opened  a  door 
and  announced  Monsieur  Buvat. 

Buvat  found  himself  in  a  sort  of  laboratory,  situated  on 
the  ground- floor,  in  the  presence  of  a  man  from  forty  to 


THE  SAVIOR  OF  FRANCE.  463 

forty-two  years  old,  who  was  entirely  unknown  to  him, 
and  who,  in  plain  costume,  was  performing  at  a  blazing 
furnace  some  chemical  experiment,  to  which  he  appeared 
to  attach  great  importance.  This  man,  seeing  Buvat,  raised 
his  head,  and  having  looked  at  him  curiously,  "  Monsieur," 
said  he,  "are  you  Jean  Buvat V1 

"  At  your  service,  Monsieur,"  answered  Buvat,  bowing. 

"  The  request  which  you  have  just  sent  to  the  abbe  13 
your  handwriting?" 

"My  own,  Monsieur." 

"  You  have  a  very  elegant  handwriting,  Monsieur." 

Buvat  bowed  with  a  proudly  modest  smile. 

"The  abbe,"  continued  the  unknown,  "has  informed 
me,  Monsieur,  of  the  services  which  you  have  rendered  us." 

"  Monseigneur  is  too  good/'  murmured  Buvat ;  "  it  was 
not  worth  the  trouble." 

"What!  not  worth  the  trouble?  Indeed,  Monsieur 
Buvat,  it  was,  on  the  contrary,  well  worth  the  trouble ; 
and  to  prove  it,  if  you  have  any  favor  to  ask  from  the 
regent,  I  will  charge  myself  with  the  message." 

"Monsieur,"  said  Buvat,  "since  you  are  so  good  as  to 
offer  to  interpret  my  sentiments  to  his  royal  Highness, 
have  the  kindness  to  request  him,  when  he  is  less 
pressed,  if  it  is  not  too  inconvenient,  to  pay  me  my 
arrears." 

"  What !  your  arrears,  Monsieur  Buvat  1  What  do  you 
mean  1 " 

"  I  mean,  Monsieur,  that  I  have  the  honor  to  be  em- 
ployed at  the  royal  library,  but  that  for  six  years  they 
have  told  us,  at  the  end  of  every  month,  that  there  was 
no  money  in  the  treasury." 

"  And  what  is  the  whole  amount  of  your  arrears  1 " 

"Monsieur,  I  must  have  a  pen  and  ink  to  calculate 
exactly." 


464  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

"  Oh,  but  something  near  the  mark ;  calculate  from 
memory." 

"  To  five  thousand  three  hundred  and  odd  francs,  besides 
the  fractions  in  sous  and  deniers." 

"  And  you  wish  for  payment,  Monsieur  Buvat  1 " 

"  I  do  not  deny  it,  Monsieur ;  it  would  give  me  great 
pleasure." 

"  And  is  this  all  you  ask  % "    . 

"AIL" 

"  But  do  you  not  ask  anything  for  the  service  which 
you  have  just  rendered  France  % " 

"  Indeed,  Monsieur,  I  should  like  permission  to  inform 
my  ward  Bathilde,  who  must  be  very  anxious  by  reason 
of  my  absence,  that  she  may  be  easy  on  my  account,  and 
that  I  am  a  prisoner  at  the  Palais  Royal.  I  wrould  also 
ask  —  if  it  would  not  be  imposing  upon  your  kindness 
too  much  —  that  she  might  be  allowed  to  pay  me  a  little 
visit ;  but  if  this  second  request  is  indiscreet,  I  will  con- 
fine myself  to  the  first." 

"We  will  do  better  than  that,  Monsieur  Buvat.  The 
causes  for  which  you  were  retained  exist  no  more,  and  we 
are  going  to  set  you  at  liberty  ;  so  you  can  go  yourself  to 
carry  the  news  to  Bathilde." 

"  What,  Monsieur,  what !  "  cried  Buvat ;  "  am  I,  then, 
no  longer  a  prisoner?" 

"  You  can  go  when  you  like." 

"  Monsieur,  I  am  your  very  humble  servant,  and  I  have 
the  honor  of  presenting  you  my  respects." 

"  Pardon,  Monsieur  Buvat,  one  word  more." 

"  Two,  Monsieur." 

"  I  repeat  to  you  that  France  is  under  obligations  to 
you,  which  she  will  acquit.  Write,  then,  to  the  regent ; 
inform  him  of  what  is  due  to  you ;  show  him  your  situa- 
tion ;  and  if  you  have  a  particular  desire  for  anything, 


THE  SAVIOR  OF  FRANCE.  465 

say  so  boldly.  I  guarantee  that  he  will  grant  your 
request." 

"  Monsieur,  you  are  too  good,  and  I  shall  not  fail.  I 
hope,  then,  that  out  of  the  first  money  which  comes  into 
the  treasury  —  " 

"You  will  be  paid  ;  I  give  you  my  word.'* 

"  Monsieur,  this  very  day  my  petition  shall  be  addressed 
to  the  regent." 

"  And  to-morrow  you  will  be  paid." 

"  Ah,  Monsieur,  what  goodness  !  " 

"  Go,  Monsieur  Buvat,  go ;  your  ward  expects 
you." 

"You  are  right,  Monsieur;  but  she  will  lose  nothing 
by  having  waited  for  me,  since  I  bring  her  such  good 
news.  Au  revoiv,  Monsieur.  Ah  !  pardon ;  would  it  be 
an  indiscretion  to  ask  your  name  1 " 

"  Monsieur  Philippe  !  " 

"  Au  revoir,  Monsieur  Philippe  !  " 

"Adieu,  Monsieur  Buvat.  One  moment;  I  must  give 
orders  that  they  are  to  allow  you  to  pass." 

At  these  words  he  rang ;  an  usher  appeared. 

"Send  Ravanne." 

The  usher  went  out ;  a  few  seconds  afterward  a  young 
officer  of  guards  entered. 

"  Ravanne,"  said  Monsieur  Philippe,  "  conduct  this 
gentleman  to  the  gate  of  the  Palais  Royal.  He  is  free 
to  go  where  he  wishes." 

"Yes,  Monseigneur,"  answered  the  young  officer. 

A  cloud  passed  over  Buvat's  eyes ;  and  he  opened  his 
mouth  to  ask  who  it  was  that  was  called  "  Monseigneur," 
but  Ravanne  did  not  leave  him  time. 

"  Come,  Monsieur,"  said  he ;  "I  await  you." 

Buvat  looked  at  Monsieur  Philippe  and  the  page  with 
a  stupefied  air ;  but  the  latter,  not  understanding  Buvat's 

30 


4:66  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

hesitation,  again  urged  him  to  start.  Buvat  obeyed,  draw- 
ing out  his  handkerchief,  and  wiping  his  forehead. 

At  the  door  the  sentinel  wished  to  stop  Buvat. 

"  By  the  order  of  his  royal  Highness  Monseigneur  the 
Regent,  Monsieur  is  free,"  said  Ravanne. 

The  soldier  presented  arms,  and  allowed  him  to  pass. 

Buvat  thought  he  should  faint ;  he  felt  his  legs  fail  him, 
and  leaned  against  a  wall. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  Monsieur  1 "  asked  his  guide. 

"  Pardon,  Monsieur,"  murmured  Buvat ;  "  but  who  is  the 
person  to  whom  I  have  just  had  the  honor  of  speaking  %n 

"  Monseigneur  the  Regent  in  person." 

"  Not  possible  !  " 

"  Not  only  possible,  but  true." 

"  What !  it  was  the  regent  himself  who  promised  to  pay 
me  my  arrears  1 " 

"  I  don't  know  what  he  promised  you  ;  but  I  know  that 
the  person  who  gave  me  the  order  to  accompany  you  was 
the  regent." 

"  But  he  told  me  his  name  was  Philippe." 

"Well,  it  is,  — Philippe  d'Orleans." 

"  That  is  true,  Monsieur,  that  is  true ;  Philippe  is  his 
Christian  name.  The  regent  is  a  brave  man,  and  when  I 
remember  that  there  are  scoundrels  who  conspire  against 
him,  —  against  a  man  who  has  promised  to  pay  me  my 
arrears,  —  why,  they  deserve  to  be  hanged,  all  of  them ; 
to  be  broken  on  the  wheel,  drawn  and  quartered,  burned 
alive.     Don't  you  think  so,  Monsieur1?" 

"  Monsieur,"  said  Ravanne,  laughing,  "I  have  no  opinion 
on  matters  of  such  importance.  We  are  at  the  gate ;  I 
should  be  happy  to  accompany  you  farther,  but  Mon- 
seigneur leaves  in  half  an  hour  for  the  Abbey  of  Chelles, 
and  as  he  has  some  orders  to  give  me  before  his  departure, 
I  am  —  to  my  great  regret  —  obliged  to  leave  you." 


THE  SAVIOR  OF   FRANCE.  467 

"All  the  regret  is  on  my  side,  Monsieur,"  said  Buvat, 
graciously,  and  answering  by  a  profound  bow  to  the  part- 
ing nod  of  the  young  man,  who,  when  Buvat  raised  his 
head,  had  already  disappeared.  This  departure  left  Buvat 
entirely  free  in  his  movements ;  and  taking  advantage  of 
that  fact,  he  pursued  his  way  down  the  Place  des  Victoires 
toward  the  Rue  du  Temps-Perdu,  round  the  corner  of 
which  he  turned  at  the  very  moment  when  D'Harmental 
ran  his  sword  through  the  body  of  Roquehnette.  It  was 
at  this  moment  that  poor  Bathilde  —  who  was  far  from 
suspecting  what  was  taking  place  in  her  neighbor's  room 
—  had  seen  her  guardian,  and  had  rushed  to  meet  him  on 
the  stairs,  where  Buvat  and  she  had  met  on  the  third  flight. 

"Oh,  little  father,  dear  little  father,"  cried  Bathilde, 
remounting  the  staircase  with  her  hand  on  Buvat's  arm, 
and  stopping  to  embrace  him  at  every  step,  "  where  have 
you  been  1  What  has  happened  to  you  1  How  is  it  that 
we  have  not  seen  you  since  Monday  1  What  uneasiness 
you  have  caused  us,  mon  Dieu/  But  something  extra- 
ordinary must  have  occurred  !  " 

"  Yes,  most  extraordinary,"  answered  Buvat. 

"Ah,  mon  Dieu!  tell  me  about  it,  little  father.  In 
the  first  place,  where   do  you  come  from]" 

"  Prom  the  Palais  Royal." 

"  What !  from  the  Palais  Royal !  and  whose  guest  were 
you  at  the  Palais  Royal  1 " 

"  The  regent's." 

"  You  the  regent's  guest !  and  what  were  you  doing 
there?" 

"  I  was  a  prisoner." 

"  A  prisoner  !  you  1 " 

"  A  State  prisoner." 

"  And  why  were  you  a  prisoner  1 " 

"  Because  I  have  saved  France." 


468  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

"  Oh,  mon  Dieu  !  mon  Dieu  !  Little  father,  have  you 
lost  your  wits  1 "  cried  Bathilde,  terrified. 

"  No ;  but  there  has  been  enough  to  make  me  crazy,  if 
I  had  not  had  a  pretty  strong  head." 

"  But,  I  beg  of  you,  explain  yourself !  " 

"  You  must  know,  then,  that  there  was  a  conspiracy 
against  the  regent." 

"Oh,  mon  Dieu/1' 

"  And  that  I  was  in  it." 

"  You  1 " 

"  Yes,  I,  —  without  being  in  it,  that  is  to  say.  You 
know  that  Prince  de  Listhnay?" 

"Well?" 

"  A  sham  prince,  my  child,  —  a  sham  prince !  H 

"  But  the  copies  which  you  made  for  him  1 " 

"  Manifestoes,  proclamations,  incendiary  papers,  a  gen- 
eral revolt,  Brittany,  Normandy,  the  States-General,  King 
of  Spain  ;  and  it  is  I  who  discovered  all  that." 

"  You  1 "  cried  Bathilde,  horrified. 

"  Yes,  I ;  and  the  regent  has  called  me  the  savior  of 
France,  —  me,  —  and  is  going  to  pay  me  my  arrears." 

"  My  father,  my  father,  you  talk  of  conspirators ;  do 
you  remember  the  names  of  any  of  them?" 

"  First,  Monsieur  le  Due  du  Maine ;  fancy  that  miser- 
able bastard  conspiring  against  a  man  like  Monseigneur 
the  Regent !  Then  a  Comte  de  Laval,  a  Marquis  de  Pom- 
padour, a  Baron  de  Yalef,  the  Prince  de  Cellamare,  the 
Abbe  Brigaud,  —  that  abominable  Abbe  Brigaud !  Think 
of  my  having  copied  the  list  — " 

"  My  father,"  said  Bathilde,  shuddering  with  fear, —  "  my 
father,  among  all  those  names,  did  you  not  see  the  name  — 
the  name  —  of  the  —  Chevalier  —  Raoul  d'Harmental  1 " 

"That  I  did,"  cried  Buvat;  "the  Chevalier  Raoul 
D'Harmental  ?     Why,  he  is  the  head  of  the  conspiracy ! 


THE  SAVIOR  OF  FRANCE.  469 

But  the  regent  knows  them  all ;  this  very  evening  they 
will  all  be  arrested,  and  to-morrow  hung,  drawn,  quar- 
tered, broken  on  the  wheel." 

"  Oh,  miserable,  miserable  that  you  are ! "  cried  Ba- 
thilde,  wringing  her  hands  wildly ;  "  you  have  killed  the 
man  whom  I  love  !  But  I  swear  to  you,  by  the  memory 
of  my  mother,  that  if  he  dies,  I  will  die  also ! " 

And  thinking  that  she  might  still  be  in  time  to  warn 
D'Harmental  of  the  danger  which  threatened  him,  Ba- 
thilde  left  Buvat  confounded,  darted  to  the  door,  flew 
down  the  staircase,  cleared  the  street  at  two  bounds, 
rushed  up  the  stairs  almost  without  touching  the  steps, 
and  breathless,  terrified,  dying,  hurled  herself  against  the 
door  of  D'Harmental's  room,  which,  badly  closed  by 
the  chevalier,  yielded  before  her,  exposing  to  her  view 
the  body  of  the  captain  stretched  on  the  floor,  and 
swimming   in   a   sea  of  blood. 

At  this  sight,  so  widely  different  from  what  she  expected, 
Bathilde,  not  thinking  that  she  might  perhaps  be  com- 
promising her  lover,  sprang  toward  the  door,  calling  for 
help;  but  on  reaching  the  threshold,  either  because  her 
strength  failed  her  or  because  her  foot  slipped  in  the 
blood,   she  fell  backward   with  a  terrible  cry. 

On  hearing  that  cry,  the  neighbors  hastened  thither, 
and  found  that  Bathilde  had  fainted ;  her  head  had 
struck  against  the  edge  of  the  door,  and  she  was  badly 
wounded.  They  carried  her  to  Madame  Denis's  room, 
and  the  good  woman  hastened  to  offer  her  hospitality. 

As  to  Captain  Roquefinette,  as  he  had  torn  off,  to  light 
his  pipe,  the  address  of  the  letter  which  he  had  in  his 
pocket,  and  as  there  was  no  other  paper  on  his  person 
indicating  his  name  or  residence,  they  carried  his  body  to 
the  Morgue,  where,  three  days  afterward,  it  was  recognized 
by  La  Normande. 


470  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 


CHAPTER    XLI. 


GOD    DISPOSES. 


D'Harmental,  as  we  have  seen,  had  set  off  at  a  gallop, 
feeling  that  he  had  not  an  instant  to  lose  in  bringing 
about  the  changes  which  the  death  of  Captain  Roque- 
finette  rendered  necessary  in  his  hazardous  enterprise. 
In  the  hope  of  recognizing  by  some  sign  the  individuals 
who  were  designed  to  play  the  part  of  assistants  in  this 
great  drama,  he  followed  the  boulevards  as  far  as  the 
Porte  St.  Martin,  and  having  arrived  there,  turned  to 
the  left,  and  was  in  the  midst  of  the  horse-market.  It 
was  there,  it  will  be  remembered,  that  the  twelve  or  fifteen 
sham  peasants  enlisted  by  Roquefinette  waited  the  orders 
of  their  chief. 

But  as  the  unfortunate  captain  had  said,  there  was  no 
special  token  which  could  designate  to  the  eye  of  a 
stranger  those  mysterious  men,  dressed  as  they  were  like 
all  the  rest,  and  scarcely  known  even  to  one  another. 
D'Harmental  therefore  sought  vainly;  all  the  faces  were 
unknown  to  him ;  buyers  and  sellers  appeared  equally  in- 
different to  everything  except  the  bargains  which  they 
were  concluding.  Twice  or  thrice,  having  approached 
persons  whom  he  fancied  he  recognized  as  pretended  bar- 
gainers, he  went  away  without  even  speaking  to  them,  so 
great  was  the  probability  that  among  the  five  or  six  hun- 
dred individuals  who  were  on  the  ground,  he  would  make 
some  mistake  which  might  be  not  only  useless,  but  even 
dangerous. 


GOD  DISPOSES.  47 J 

The  situation  was  pitiable.  D'Harmental  unquestion- 
ably had  there,  ready  to  his  hand,  all  the  means  necessary 
to  the  successful  accomplishment  of  his  purpose ;  but  in 
killing  the  captain,  he  had  broken  with  hisV»wn  hand  the 
thread  which  should  have  served  him  as  a  c»ew  to  them, 
and  the  connecting  link  broken,  the  whole\  chain  had 
become  useless. 

D'Harmental  bit  his  lips  till  the  blood  came,  and  wan- 
dered to  and  fro  from  end  to  end  of  the  market,  still 
hoping  that  some  unforeseen  event  would  get  hinr*  out  of 
his  difficulty.  But  time  went  on ;  the  market  presented 
the  same  aspect ;  no  one  spoke  to  him ;  and  two  peasants, 
to  whom  in  his  despair  he  had  addressed  a  few  ambiguous 
words,  had  opened  their  eyes  and  mouths  in  such  pro- 
found-astonishment that  he  had  instantly  broken  off  the 
conversation,  convinced  that  he  was  mistaken. 

Five  o'clock  struck.  At  eight  or  nine  the  regent  would 
return  from  Chelles.  There  was  therefore  no  time  to  be 
lost,  particularly  as  this  ambuscade  was  the  last  resource 
for  the  conspirators,  who  might  be  arrested  at  any  moment, 
and  who  staked  their  remaining  hopes  on  this  last  throw. 
D'Harmental  did  not  conceal  from  himself  the  difficulties 
of  the  situation.  He  had  claimed  for  himself  the  honor 
of  the  enterprise  ;  on  him  therefore  rested  all  the  respon- 
sibility, and  that  responsibility  was  terrible.  On  the 
other  hand,  he  found  himself  in  one  of  those  situations 
where  courage  is  useless,  where  human  will  shatters  itself 
against  an  impossibility,  and  where  the  last  chance  is  to 
confess  one's  weakness,  and  ask  aid  from  those  who  expect 
it  of  us.  But  D'Harmental  was  a  man  of  determination  ; 
his  resolution  was  soon  formed.  He  took  a  last  turn 
round  the  market  to  see  if  some  conspirator  would  not 
betray  himself  by  his  impatience  ;  but  seeing  that  all 
faces  retained  their  expression  of  unconcern,  he  put  his 


472  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

horse  to  a  gallop,  rode  down  the  boulevards,  gained  the 
Faubourg  St.  Antoine,  dismounted  at  No.  15,  went  up 
the'  staircase,  opened  the  door  of  a  little  room,  and  found 
himself  in  the  presence  of  Madame  du  Maine,  Laval,  Valef, 
Pompadour,  Halezieux,  and  Brigaud.  They  all  uttered 
cries  of  astonishment  on  seeing  him. 

D'Harmeutal  related  everything,  —  the  demands  of 
Roquefinet'je,  the  discussion  which  had  followed,  the  duel 
which  had  terminated  that  discussion.  He  opened  his 
cloak  and  showed  his  shirt  saturated  with  blood  ;  then  he 
passed  to  the  hopes  which  he  had  entertained  of  recog- 
nizing the  sham  peasants,  and  putting  himself  at  their 
head  in  place  of  the  captain.  He  described  the  failure  of 
his  hopes  and  his  futile  investigations  in  the  horse-market, 
and  wound  up  by  an  appeal  to  Laval,  Pompadour,  and 
Yalef,  who  answered  that  they  were  ready  to  follow  the 
chevalier  to  the  end  of  the  earth,  and  to  obey  his  orders. 

Nothing  was  lost,  then.  Four  resolute  men,  acting  on 
their  own  account,  were  well  worth  twelve  or  fifteen  hired 
vagabonds,  who  were  not  influenced  by  any  motive  be- 
yond that  of  gaining  each  some  hundred  louis.  The  horses 
were  ready  in  the  stable ;  every  one  had  come  armed. 
D'Avranches  had  not  yet  gone,  so  that  the  little  troop  was 
re-enforced  by  another  devoted  man.  They  sent  for  masks 
of  black  velvet,  so  as  to  hide  from  the  regent  as  long  as 
possible  the  faces  of  his  abductors,  left  with  Madame  du 
Maine  Malezieux  and  Brigaud,  who  were  naturally  ex- 
cluded from  such  an  expedition,  —  the  former  by  his 
advanced  age,  and  the  latter  by  his  profession,  —  ap- 
pointed a  rendezvous  at  St.  Mande,  and  went  away,  each 
one  separately,  so  as  not  to  arouse  suspicions.  An  hour 
afterward  the  five  friends  were  reunited,  and  ambushed  on 
the  road  to  Chelles,  between  Vincennes  and  Nogent-sur' 
M'arne. 


GOD  DISPOSES.  473 

Half-past  six  struck  on  the  chateau  clock. 

D'Avranches  had  been  in  search  of  information.  The 
regent  had  passed  at  about  half-past  three.  He  had  neither 
guards  nor  suite ;  he  was  in  a  carriage  with  four  horses, 
managed  by  two  jockeys,  and  was  preceded  by  a  single 
outrider.  There  was  therefore  no  resistance  to  be  feared. 
On  arresting  the  prince,  they  would  turn  his  course  toward 
Charenton,  where  the  post-master  was,  as  we  have  said, 
devoted  to  the  interest  of  Madame  du  Maine ;  they  would 
take  him  into  the  courtyard,  whose  door  would  close 
upon  him,  and  would  force  him  to  enter  a  travelling- 
carriage,  which  would  be  waiting  with  the  postilion  in 
his  saddle.  D'Harmental  and  Yalef  would  seat  them- 
selves by  him  ;  they  would  start  off  at  a  rapid  pace  ;  they 
would  cross  the  Marne  at  Alfort,  the  Seine  at  Villeneuve- 
St.-Georges,  reach  Grand-Vaux,  then  Monthery,  and  find 
themselves  on  the  road  to  Spain.  If  at  any  of  the  stations 
where  they  changed  horses  the  regent  endeavored  to  call 
out,  D'Harmental  and  Valef  would  threaten  him ;  and  if 
he  called  out  in  spite  of  the  menaces,  they  had  that  famous 
passport  to  prove  that  he  who  claimed  assistance  was  not 
the  prince,  but  only  a  madman  who  thought  himself  the 
regent,  and  whom  they  were  conducting  to  his  family, 
who  lived  at  Saragossa.  All  this  was  a  little  dangerous,  it 
is  true ;  but  as  is  well  known,  these  are  the  very  enter- 
prises which  succeed,  the  more  easily  because  those  against 
whom  they  are  directed  are  not  on  guard  against  them. 

Seven  o'clock,  eight  o'clock,  struck  successively.  D'Har- 
mental and  his  companions  saw  with  pleasure  the  night 
approaching,  and  the  darkness  falling  more  and  more  dense 
and  black  around  them ;  two  or  three  passing  carriages, 
either  of  the  post  or  of  private  owners,  had  already  roused 
their  expectations,  and  had  put  them  on  the  alert  in  readi- 
ness for  the  real  attack.     At  half-past  eight  the  night  was 


474  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

pitch-dark,  and  a  sort  of  natural  fear,  which  the  conspira- 
tors had  felt  at  first,  began  to  change  into  impatience. 

At  nine  o'clock  they  thought  they  could  distinguish 
sounds.  D'Avranches  lay  down,  with  his  ear  to  the 
ground,  and  distinctly  heard  the  rolling  of  a  carriage. 
At  that  instant  they  saw,  at  a  distance  of  about  a  thou- 
sand paces,  near  a  turn  in  the  road,  a  point  of  light  like  a 
star.  The  conspirators  trembled  with  excitement ;  it  was 
evidently  the  outrider  with  his  torch.  There  was  soon 
no  doubt ;  they  saw  the  carriage  with  its  two  lanterns. 
D'Harmental,  Pompadour,  Valef,  and  Laval  grasped  one 
another's  hands,  put  on  their  masks,  and  each  one  took 
the  place  assigned  to   him. 

The  carriage  advanced  rapidly  ;  it  was  really  that  of  the 
duke.  By  the  light  of  the  torch  which  he  carried,  they 
could  distinguish  the  red  dress  of  the  outrider,  some  five 
and  twenty  paces  before  the  horses.  The  road  was  silent 
and  deserted;  everything  seemed  to  favor  the  conspira- 
tors. D'Harmental  threw  a  last  glance  on  his  companions. 
D'Avranches  was  in  the  middle  of  the  road,  pretending  to 
be  drunk  ;  Laval  and  Pompadour  were  at  the  sides  of  the 
path ;  and  opposite  him  was  Valef,  who  was  cocking  his 
pistols.  As  to  the  outrider,  the  two  jockeys,  and  the 
prince,  it  was  evident  that  they  were  all  in  a  state  of  per- 
fect security,  and  would  fall  quietly  into  the  trap. 

The  carriage  drew  near  ;  already  the  outrider  had  passed 
D'Harmental  and  Valef.  Suddenly  he  struck  against 
D'Avranches,  who  sprang  up,  seized  the  bridle,  snatched 
the  torch  from  his  hand,  and  extinguished  it.  At  this 
sight  the  jockeys  tried  to  turn  the  carriage,  but  it  was  too 
late.  Pompadour  and  Laval  sprang  upon  them,  pistol  in 
hand,  while  D'Harmental  and  Valef  presented  themselves 
at  the  two  doors,  extinguished  the  lanterns,  and  intimated 
to  the  prince  that  if  he  did  not  make  any  resistance,  his 


GOD  DISPOSES.  475 

life  would  be  spared,  but  that  if,  on  the  contrary,  he  de- 
fended himself  or  cried  out,  they  were  determined  to 
proceed  to  extremities. 

Contrary  to  the  expectation  of  D'Harmental  and  Valef, 
who  knew  the  courage  of  the  regent,  the  prince  said  only, 
"  Well,  gentlemen,  do  not  harm  me.  I  will  go  wherever 
you  wish." 

D'Harmental  and  Valef  threw  a  glance  along  the  road , 
they  saw  Pompadour  and  D'Avranches  leading  into  the 
depth  of  the  wood  the  outrider,  the  two  jockeys,  the  out- 
rider's horse,  and  two  of  the  carriage  horses,  which  they 
had  unharnessed.  The  chevalier  sprang  from  his  horse 
and  mounted  that  of  the  first  postilion ;  Laval  and  Valef 
placed  themselves  at  the  doors;  the  carriage  set  off  at  a 
gallop,  and  taking  the  first  turn  to  the  left,  began  to  roll, 
without  noise  and  without  light,  in  the  direction  of  Cha- 
renton.  All  the  arrangements  had  been  so  well  made 
that  the  seizure  had  not  occupied  more  than  five  minutes  ; 
no  resistance  had  been  made,  and  not  a  cry  had  been 
uttered.  Most  assuredly,  this  time  fortune  was  on  the 
side  of  the  conspirators. 

But  having  arrived  at  the  end  of  the  cross-road,  D'Har- 
mental encountered  a  first  obstacle  :  the  barrier,  either  by 
accident  or  design,  was  closed,  and  they  were  obliged  to 
retrace  their  steps  and  take  another  road.  The  chevalier 
turned  his  horses,  took  a  lateral  alley,  and  the  journey,  in- 
terrupted for  an  instant,  was  resumed  at  an  increased  speed. 

The  new  route  which  the  chevalier  had  taken  led  him 
to  a  place  where  several  roads  met  in  an  open  square. 
One  of  the  roads  led  straight  to  Charenton.  There  was 
no  time  to  lose,  and  in  any  event  he  must  cross  this 
square.  For  an  instant  he  thought  he  distinguished  men 
in  the  darkness  before  him  ;  but  this  vision  disappeared 
like  a  mist,  and  the  carriage  continued  its  progress  with- 


476  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

out  interruption.  On  approaching  the  square,  D'Harmen- 
tal  fancied  he  heard  the  neighing  of  a  horse,  and  a  sort  of 
ringing  of  iron,  as  when  sabres  are  drawn  from  their 
sheaths ;  but  taking  it  either  for  the  wind  among  the 
leaves  or  for  some  other  noise  for  which  he  need  not 
stop,  he  continued  with  the  same  swiftness,  the  same 
silence,  and  in  the  midst  of  the  same  darkness. 

But  on  arriving  at  the  square  made  by  the  junction  of 
the  several  roads,  D'Harmental  saw  something  strange, — 
a  sort  of  wall  closing  all  the  roads  that  centred  there ; 
it  was  evident  that  something  unexpected  was  taking 
place.  D'Harmental  stopped  the  carriage,  and  wished,  to 
go  back  on  the  road  by  which  he  had  come  ;  but  a  similar 
wall  had  closed  behind  him.  At  that  instant  he  heard  the 
voices  of  Laval  and  Valef  crying,  "  We  are  surrounded ! 
Save  yourself!"  And  both  left  the  doors,  leaped  their 
horses  over  the  ditch,  darted  into  the  forest,  and  disap- 
peared among  the  trees. 

But  it  was  impossible  for  D'Harmental,  who  was 
mounted  on  the  postilion's  horse,  to  follow  his  com- 
panions. Unable  to  escape  the  living  wall  which  he  re- 
cognized as  formed  by  a  body  of  musketeers,  he  tried  to 
break  through  it,  and  with  his  head  lowered,  and  a  pistol 
in  each  hand,  spurred  his  horse  up  the  nearest  road,  with- 
out considering  whether  it  was  the  right  one.  He  had 
scarcely  gone  ten  steps,  however,  when  a  musket-ball  en- 
tered the  head  of  his  horse,  which  fell,  entangling  D'Har- 
mental's  leg.  Instantly  eight  or  ten  cavaliers  leaped  from 
their  horses  and  sprang  upon  him.  He  fired  one  pistol  at 
random,  and  put  the  other  to  his  head,  to  blow  out  his 
brains ;  but  he  had  not  time,  for  two  musketeers  seized 
him  by  the  arms,  and  four  others  dragged  him  from 
beneath  the  horse.  The  pretended  prince  descended  from 
the  carriage,  and  turned  out  to  be  a  valet  in  disguise; 


GOD  DISPOSES.  477 

they  placed  D'Harmental  with  two  officers  inside  the 
carriage,  and  harnessed  another  horse  in  the  place  of  the 
one  which  had  been  shot.  The  carriage  once  more  moved 
forward,  taking  a  new  direction,  and  escorted  by  a 
squadron  of  musketeers.  A  quarter  of  an  hour  afterward 
it  rolled  over  a  drawbridge ;  a  heavy  door  grated  upon  its 
hinges ;  and  D'Harmental  passed  under  a  sombre  and 
vaulted  gateway,  on  the  inner  side  of  which  an  officer  in 
the  uniform  of  a  colonel  was  waiting  for  him.  It  was 
Monsieur  de  Launay,  the  governor  of  the  Bastille. 

If  our  readers  desire  to  know  how  the  plot  had  been 
discovered,  they  must  recall  the  conversation  between 
Dubois  and  La  Fillon.  That  companion  of  the  prime 
minister,  it  will  be  remembered,  suspected  Eoquefinette 
of  being  concerned  in  some  unlawful  enterprise,  and  had 
denounced  him  on  condition  of  his  life  being  spared.  A 
few  days  afterward  D'Harmental  had-  come  to  her  house, 
and  she  had  recognized  him  as  the  young  nobleman  who 
had  held  the  former  conference  with  Roquefinette.  She 
had  consequently  mounted  the  stairs  behind  him,  and 
going  into  the  next  room,  had  heard  everything  through  a 
hole  bored  in  the  partition. 

What  she  had  heard  was  the  project  for  carrying  off  the 
regent  on  his  return  from  Chelles.  Dubois  had  been  in- 
formed the  same  evening,  and  in  order  to  take  the  c 
spirators  in  the  act,  had  put  a  suit  of  the  regent's  clothes 
on  Monsieur  Bourguignon,  and  having  surrounded  the 
Bois  de  Yincennes  with  a  regiment  of  Gray  Musketeers, 
besides  light-horse  and  dragoons,  had  produced  the  result 
we  have  just  related.  The  head  of  the  plot  had  been 
taken  in  the  act ;  and  as  the  prime  minister  knew  the 
names  of  all  the  other  conspirators,  there  was  little  chance 
remaining  for  them  of  escape  from  the  meshes  of  the  vast 
net  which  was  hourly  closing  around  them. 


478  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 


CHAPTER    XLII. 

A   PRIME    MINISTER'S   MEMORY. 

When  Bathilde  reopened  her  eyes,  she  found  herself  in 
Mademoiselle  Emilie's  room.  Mirza  was  lying  on  the  end 
of  the  bed ;  the  two  sisters  were  near  her ;  and  Buvat, 
overcome  by  grief,  was  sitting  in  a  corner,  his  head  bowed, 
and  his  hands  resting  on  his  knees. 

At  first  all  her  thoughts  were  confused,  and  her  sensa- 
tion was  one  of  bodily  pain.  She  raised  her  hand  to  her 
head  ;  the  wound  was  behind  the  temple.  A  doctor,  who 
had  been  called  in,  had  arranged  the  first  dressing,  and 
left  orders  that  he  was  to  be  sent  for  if  fever  declared 
itself. 

Astonished  to  find  herself,  on  waking  from  a  sleep 
which  had  appeared  to  her  heavy  and  painful,  in  bed  in 
a  strange  room,  the  young  girl  turned  an  inquiring  glance 
on  each  person  present ;  but  iEmilie  and  Athenais  shunned 
her  eyes,  and  Buvat  heaved  a  mournful  sigh.  Mirza  alone 
stretched  out  her  little  head  for  a  caress.  Unluckily  for 
the  coaxing  little  creature,  Bathilde  began  to  recover  her 
memory ;  the  veil  which  was  drawn  before  the  late  events 
rose  little  by  little,  and  soon  she  began  to  connect  the 
broken  threads  which  would  aid  her  to  trace  anew  the 
course  of  past  occurrences.  She  recalled  the  return  of 
Buvat ;  what  he  had  told  her  of  the  conspiracy ;  and  the 
danger  to  which  D'Harmental  was  exposed  in  consequence 
of  the  revelation  which  Buvat  had  made.  Then  she 
remembered  her  hope  of  being  in  time  to  save  him,  and 


A  PRIME  MINISTER'S   MEMORY.  479 

with  what  speed  she  had  crossed  the  street  and  mounted 
the  staircase  ;  lastly,  her  entry  into  Kaoul's  room  returned 
to  her  memory,  and  uttering  a  new  cry  of  terror,  as  if  she 
found  herself  again  before  the  corpse  of  Eoquefinette, 
"And  he,"  she  cried,  "what  has  become  of  him'?" 

No  one  answered,  for  neither  of  the  three  persons  who 
were  in  the  room  knew  what  reply  to  give ;  but  Buvat^ 
choking  with  tears,  rose  and  went  toward  the  door.  Ba- 
thilde  understood  the  grief  and  remorse  expressed  in  that 
silent  withdrawal;  she  stopped  Buvat  by  a  look,  and 
extending  her  arms  toward  him,  "  Little  father,"  said  she, 
"  do  you  no  longer  love  your  poor  Bathilde  ? " 

"  I  no  longer  love  you,  my  darling  child  !  "  cried  Buvat, 
falling  on  his  knees,  and  kissing  her  hand,  "  I  love  you  no 
longer  !  My  God !  it  will  be  you  who  will  not  love  me 
now ;  and  you  will  be  right,  for  I  am  a  curse  to  you.  I 
ought  to  have  known  that  that  young  man  loved  you,  and 
ought  to  have  risked  all,  suffered  all,  rather  than  —  But 
you  told  me  nothing,  you  had  no  confidence  in  me,  and 
I,  with  the  best  intentions  in  the  world,  only  made  blun- 
ders. Oh,  wretch  that  I  am !  how  can  you  ever  forgive 
me  ]     And  if  you  do  not  forgive  me,  how  shall  I  live  1 " 

"  Little  father,"  cried  Bathilde,  "  little  father,  try  at 
least   to   find   out  what  has  become  of  him,   I  implore 

you." 

"  Well,  my  child,  well ;  I  will  inquire.  Will  not  you 
forgive  me  if  I  bring  you  good  news  1  If  the  news  is 
bad  you  will  hate  me  even  more,  —  that  will  be  but  just ; 
but  you  will  not  die,  Bathilde  ? " 

"  Go,  go  !  "  said  Bathilde,  throwing  her  arms  round  his 
neck,  and  giving  him  a  kiss  in  which  fifteen  years  of 
gratitude  struggled  with  one  day  of  pain.  "  Go  ;  my  life 
is  in  the  hands  of  God.  He  only  can  decide  whether  I 
shall  live  or  die." 


480  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

Buvat  understood  nothing  of  all  this  hut  the  kiss  which 
he  had  received.  It  seemed  to  him  that  if  Bathilde  was 
very  much  offended  with  him  she  would  not  have  kissed 
him ;  and  half  consoled,  he  took  his  hat  and  cane,  and 
having  inquired  of  Madame  Denis  how  the  chevalier  had 
been  dressed,  he  set  out  on  his  search  in  the  direction 
which  D'Harmental  had  taken. 

It  was  no  easy  matter  for  a  detective  so  simple  as  Buvat 
to  trace  Raoul's  progress ;  he  learned  from  a  neighbor  that 
he  had  been  seen  to  spring  upon  a  gray  horse  which  had 
remained  some  half-hour  fastened  to  the  shutter,  and  that 
he  had  turned  the  corner  of  the  Rue  Gros-Chenet.  A 
grocer,  who  lived  at  the  corner  of  the  Rue  des  Jeuneurs, 
remembered  having  seen  a  cavalier  whose  person  and  horse 
agreed  perfectly  with  the  description  given  by  Buvat  pass 
by  at  full  gallop  ;  and,  lastly,  a  fruit-woman,  who  kept  a 
little  shop  at  the  corner  of  the  boulevards,  swore  posi- 
tively that  she  had  seen  the  man,  and  that  he  had  dis- 
appeared by  the  Porte  St.  Denis.  But  from  this  point  all 
the  information  was  vague,  unsatisfactory,  and  uncertain  ; 
so  that  after  two  hours  of  useless  inquiry  Buvat  returned 
to  Madame  Denis's  house  without  any  more  definite 
information  to  give  Bathilde  than  that,  wherever  D'Har- 
mental might  have  gone,  he  had  passed  along  the  Boule- 
vard  Bonne-Nouvelle. 

Buvat  found  his  ward  much  agitated.  During  his 
absence  she  had  grown  rapidly  worse,  and  the  crisis  fore- 
seen by  the  doctor  was  fast  approaching.  Bathilde's  eyes 
were  burning  ;  her  skin  seemed  to  glow ;  her  utterances 
were  nervously  brief.  Madame  Denis  had  just  sent  for 
the  doctor. 

The  poor  woman  was  not  without  her  own  anxieties ; 
for  some  time  she  had  suspected  that  the  Abbe  Brigaud 
was  involved  in  some  plot,  and  what  she  had  just  learned — 


A  PRIME  MINISTER'S  MEMORY.  481 

that  D'Harmental  was  not  a  poor  student,  but  a  handsome 
colonel — confirmed  her  conjectures,  since  it  was  Brigaud 
who  had  introduced  him  to  her.  This  similarity  between 
her  own  situation  and  that  of  the  patient  had  not  a  little 
contributed  to  soften  her  heart,  always  kind,  toward 
Bathilde.  She  listened,  then,  with  eagerness  to  the  little 
information  which  Buvat  had  been  able  to  collect  for  the 
sufferer,  and  as  it  was  far  from  being  sufficiently  positive 
to  calm  the  patient,  she  promised,  if  she  heard  anything 
herself,  to  report  it  at  once. 

In  the  mean  time  the  doctor  arrived.  Great  as  was  his 
command  over  himself,  it  was  easy  to  see  that  he  thought 
Bathilde's  condition  serious.  He  bled  her  abundantly, 
ordered  refreshing  drinks,  and  advised  that  some  one 
should  watch  at  the  bedside.  Emilie  and  Athenais,  who, 
aside  from  their  little  absurdities,  were  at  heart  excellent 
girls,  declared  directly  that  that  was  their  business,  and 
that  they  would  pass  the  night  with  Bathilde  alternately. 
Emilie,  as  the  elder,  claimed  the  first  watch,  which  was 
accorded  to  her  without  contest.  As  to  Buvat,  since  he 
could  not  remain  in  the  chamber,  and  besides,  his  stifled 
sighs  and  heavy  groans  could  only  disturb  the  patient, 
they  begged  him  to  return  home,  which  he  consented 
to  do  only  when  Bathilde  herself  had  entreated  him. 

The  bleeding  had  somewhat  calmed  Bathilde,  and  she 
seemed  to  feel  better.  Madame  Denis  had  left  the  room  ; 
Mademoiselle  Athenais  also  had  retired ;  Monsieur  Boni- 
face, after  returning  from  the  Morgue,  where  he  had  been 
to  pay  a  visit  to  the  body  of  Roquefinette,  had  gone  up  to 
his  own  room  ;  and  Emilie  watched  by  the  fireplace,  and 
read  a  little  book  which  she  took  from  her  pocket.  Some 
one  knocked  on  the  street-door  twice,  in  a  manner  which 
indicated  a  degree  of  agitation  on  the  part  of  him  who 
sought  admission.     Bathilde  started,  and  raised  herself  on 

31 


482  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

her  elbow.  Emilie  hurried  her  book  into  her  pocket,  and 
having  heard  Bathilde's  movement,  hastened  to  the  bed. 
Then  could  be  heard  the  opening  and  shutting  of  two  or 
three  doors  ;  and  before  Emilie  had  time  to  say,  "  That 
is  not  the  voice  of  Monsieur  Raoul,  it  is  the  Abbe  Bri- 
gaud," Bathilde  had   fallen  back  on  her  pillow. 

An  instant  afterward  Madame  Denis  half  opened  the 
door,  and  in  a  trembling  voice  called  Emilie,  who  went 
out,  leaving  Bathilde  alone. 

Suddenly  Bathilde  was  startled ;  the  abbe  was  in  the 
room  next  to  hers,  and  she  thought  that  she  heard  him  pro- 
nounce Raoul's  name.  She  now  remembered  having  sev- 
eral times  seen  the  abbe  at  D'Harniental's  rooms  ;  she  knew 
that  he  was  one  of  the  most  intimate  friends  of  Madame 
du  Maine.  She  thought,  then,  that  the  abbe  must  bring 
news  of  him.  Her  first  idea  was  to  slip  from  the  bed, 
put  on  a  dressing-gown,  and  go  and  ask  what  had  hap- 
pened ;  but  she  considered  that  if  the  news  was  bad, 
they  would  not  tell  it,  and  that  it  would  be  better  to 
overhear  the  conversation,  which  seemed  to  be  animated. 
Consequently  she  pressed  her  ear  to  the  panel,  and  listened 
as  if  all  her  life  were  concentrated  in  the  one  sense  of 
hearing. 

Brigaud  was  relating  to  Madame  Denis  what  had  hap- 
pened. Valef  had  made  his  way  to  the  Faubourg  St. 
Antoine,  and  given  warning  to  Madame  du  Maine  of  the 
failure  of  the  expedition.  Madame  du  Maine  had  imme- 
diately freed  the  conspirators  from  their  oaths,  advised 
Malezieux  and  Brigaud  to  save  themselves,  and  retired 
to  the  Arsenal.  Brigaud  came  therefore  to  bid  adieu  to 
Madame  Denis  ;  he  was  going  to  attempt  to  reach  Spain 
in  the  disguise  of  a  pedler.  In  the  midst  of  his  recital,  in- 
terrupted by  the  exclamations  of  poor  Madame  Denis  and 
of  Mademoiselle  Athenais  and  Emilie,  the  abbe  thought 


A  PRIME  MINISTER'S   MEMORY.  483 

that  he  heard  a  cry  in  the  next  room,  just  at  the  time 
when  he  was  relating  D'Harmental's  catastrophe ;  but  as 
no  one  had  paid  any  attention  to  the  cry,  and  as  he  was 
not  aware  that  Bathilde  was  in  that  room,  he  had  attached 
no  importance  to  this  noise,  regarding  the  nature  of  which 
he  might  easily  have  been  mistaken.  Moreover,  Boniface, 
summoned  in  his  turn,  had  entered  at  the  moment,  and 
as  the  abbe  had  a  particular  fancy  for  Boniface,  his 
entrance  had  naturally  turned  Brigaud's  thoughts  into 
a  different  channel. 

Still,  this  was  not  the  time  for  long  leave-takings ; 
Brigaud  desired  that  daylight  should  find  him  as  far  as 
possible  from  Paris.  He  therefore  took  leave  of  the  Denis 
family,  and  set  out  with  Boniface,  who  declared  that  he 
would  accompany  his  friend  Brigaud  as  far  as  the  barrier. 

As  they  opened  the  staircase-door  they  heard  the  voice 
of  the  portress,  who  appeared  to  be  opposing  the  passage  of 
some  one;  they  descended  to  discover  the  cause  of  the 
discussion,  and  found  Bathilde,  with  streaming  hair,  naked 
feet,  and  wrapped  in  a  long  white  robe,  standing  on  the 
staircase,  and  endeavoring  to  go  out  in  spite  of  the  efforts 
of  the  portress.  The  poor  girl  had  heard  everything ;  her 
fever  had  changed  into  delirium.  She  would  join  Raoul ; 
she  would  see  him  again;  she  would  die  with  him. 

The  three  women  took  her  in  their  arms.  For  a  min- 
ute she  struggled  against  them,  murmuring  incoherent 
words;  her  cheeks  were  flushed  with  fever,  while  her 
limbs  trembled,  and  her  teeth  chattered.  But  soon  her 
strength  failed  her;  her  head  sank  back;  and  calling  on 
the  name  of  Raoul,  she  fainted  a  second  time. 

They  sent  once  more  for  the  doctor.  What  he  had 
feared  was  now  no  longer  doubtful,  —  brain  fever  had 
declared  itself.  At  this  moment  some  one  knocked ;  it 
was  Buvat,  whom  Brigaud  and  Boniface  had  found  wan- 


484  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

dering  to  and  fro  before  the  house  like  a  ghost,  and  who, 
not  able  to  contend  any  longer  with  his  anxiety,  had  come 
to  beg  for  a  seat  in  some  corner,  he  did  not  care  where, 
so  long  as  from  time  to  time  he  had  news  of  Bathilde. 
The  poor  family  were  too  sad  themselves  not  to  feel  for 
the  grief  of  others.  Madame  signed  to  Buvat  to  seat 
himself  in  a  corner,  and  retired  into  her  own  room  with 
Athena'is,  leaving  Emilie  once  more  with  the  sufferer. 

About  daybreak  Boniface  returned.  He  had  gone  with 
Brigaud  as  far  as  the  Barriere  d'Enfer,  where  the  abbe 
had  left  him,  hoping  —  thanks  to  his  good  steed,  and  to 
his  disguise  —  to -reach  the  Spanish  frontier. 

Bathilde's  delirium  continued.  All  night  she  talked 
of  Raoul ;  she  often  mentioned  Buvat's  name,  and  always 
accused  him  of  having  killed  her  lover.  Buvat  heard  it, 
and  without  daring  to  defend  himself,  to  reply,  or  even 
to  groan,  had  silently  burst  into  tears,  seeking  in  his  mind 
how  to  repair  the  evil  he  had  wrought.  At  last,  as  day 
was  breaking  he  seemed  to  have  formed  a  decided  resolu- 
tion. He  approached  the  bed,  kissed  the  feverish  hand 
of  Bathilde,  who  looked  at  him  without  recognizing  him, 
and  went  out. 

Buvat  had,  in  fact,  determined  on  a  bold  course.  It 
was  to  go  himself  to  Dubois,  tell  him  everything,  and  ask 
as  his  recompense,  not  the  payment  of  his  arrears,  not 
advancement  at  the  library,  but  pardon  for  D'Harmental. 
It  was  the  least  that  could  be  accorded  to  the  man  whom 
the  regent  himself  had  called  the  savior  of  France.  Buvat 
did  not  doubt  that  he  should  soon  return  bearing  good 
news,  and  that  the  good  news  would  restore  Bathilde  to 
health. 

Consequently  Buvat  went  home  to  repair  the  disorder 
of  his  dress,  which  had  been  disarranged  by  the  events  of 
the  day  and  the  emotions  of  the  night ;  and,  moreover,  he 


A  PRIME  MINISTER'S  MEMORY.  485 

did  not  dare  to  present  himself  at  the  ministers  house 
so  early,  for  fear  of  disturbing  him.  His  toilet  finished,  as 
it  was  still  only  nine  o'clock,  he  visited  for  a  few  minutes 
Bathilde's  room  ;  it  was  that  which  the  young  girl  had 
left  the  day  before.  Buvat  sat  down  in  the  chair  which 
she  had  occupied,  touched  the  articles  which  she  liked  to 
touch,  and  kissed  the  feet  of  the  crucifix  which  she  kissed 
each  night ;  one  would  have  thought  him  a  lover  following 
the  steps  of  his  mistress. 

Ten  o'clock  struck ;  it  was  the  hour  at  which  Buvat 
had  often  before  repaired  to  the  Palais  Royal.  The  fear 
of  being  importunate  gave  place  to  the  hope  of  being 
received  as  he  had  always  been.  He  took  his  hat  and 
cane,  and  called  at  Madame  Denis's  to  ask  how  Bathilde 
had  been  during  his  absence ;  he  found  that  she  had  never 
ceased  to  call  for  Raoul.  The  doctor  had  bled  her  for  the 
third  time.  Buvat  raised  his  eyes  as  if  to  call  Heaven  to 
witness  that  he  was  about  to  do  all  that  he  possibly  could 
do  to  bring  prompt  relief  to  the  sorrows  of  his  ward, 
heaved  a  profound  sigh,  and  set  out  for  the  Palais 
Royal. 

The  moment  was  badly  chosen.  Dubois,  who  had  been 
constantly  on  his  feet  for  four  or  five  days,  suffered  hor- 
ribly from  the  malady  which  was  to  cause  his  death  in 
V  a  few  months  ;  moreover,  he  was  beyond  measure  annoyed 
that  only  D'Harmental  had  been  taken,  and  had  just  given 
orders  to  Leblanc  and  D'Argenson  to  press  on  the  trial 
with  all  possible  speed,  when  his  valet-de-chambre,  who 
was  accustomed  to  see  the  worthy  writer  arrive  every 
morning,  announced  Monsieur  Buvat. 

"  And  who  the  devil  is  Monsieur  Buvat  ? " 

"  It  is  T,  Monseigneur,"  said  the  poor  fellow,  venturing 
to  slip  between  the  valet  and  the  door,  and  bowing  his 
honest  head  before  the  prime  minister. 


486  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

"  Well,  who  are  you  ?  "  asked  Dubois,  as  if  he  had  never 
seen  him  before. 

"  What,  Monseigneur  !  "  exclaimed  the  astonished 
Buvat ;  "  do  you  not  recognize  me  1  I  come  to  con- 
gratulate you  on  the  discovery  of  the  conspiracy." 

"  I  get  congratulations  enough  of  that  kind ;  thanks 
for  yours,  Monsieur  Buvat,"  said  Dubois,  in  a  dry  tone. 

"  But,  Monseigneur,  I  come  also  to  ask  a  favor." 

"A  favor!  and  on  what  grounds'?" 

"  Why,"  said  Buvat,  stammering,  —  "  why,  Monseigneur, 
do  you  not  remember  that  you  promised  me  a  —  a 
recompense." 

"  A  recompense  !  to  you,  you  double  idiot  ? " 

"  What,  Monseigneur  !  "  continued  poor  Buvat,  getting 
more  and  more  frightened,  "  do  you  not  recollect  that  you 
told  me  here,  in  this  very  room,  that  I  had  my  fortune  at 
my  fingers'  ends  1 " 

"  And  now,"  said  Dubois,  "  I  tell  you  that  you  have 
your  life  in  your  legs;  for  unless  you  decamp  pretty 
quick  —  " 

"  But,  Monseigneur  —  " 

"  Ah  !  you  reason  with  me,  scoundrel !  "  shouted  Dubois, 
raising  himself  with  one  hand  on  the  arm  of  his  chair,  and 
the  other  on  his  archbishop's  crook.  "  Wait,  then ;  you 
shall  see  —  " 

Buvat  had  seen  quite  enough.  At  the  threatening  gesture 
of  the  premier  he  understood  what  was  to  follow,  and  turn- 
ing round,  fled  at  full  speed;  but  quick  as  he  was,  he 
had  still  time  to  hear  Dubois,  with  the  most  horrible  oaths 
and  curses,  order  his  valet  to  beat  him  to  death  if  ever 
again  he  put  his  foot  inside  the  door  of  the  Palais  Royal. 

Buvat  understood  that  there  was  no  more  hope  in  that 
direction,  and  that  he  must  renounce  not  only  the  idea  of 
being  of  service  to  D'Harmental,  but  also  all  hope  of  the 


A  PRIME  MINISTER'S  MEMORY.  487 

payment  of  his  arrears,  —  a  hope  to  which  he  had  fondly 
clung.  This  chain  of  thought  naturally  reminded  him 
that  for  eight  days  he  had  not  been  to  the  library.  He 
was  near  there.  He  resolved  to  go  to  his  office,  if  it  was 
only  to  excuse  himself  to  his  superior,  and  relate  to  him 
the  causes  of  his  absence.  But  here  a  grief  not  less  ter- 
rible than  the  rest  was  in  store  for  Buvat :  on  opening  the 
door  of  his  office  he  saw  his  seat  occupied  j  a  stranger  had 
been  appointed  to  his  place  ! 

As  he  had  never  before  — during  the  whole  fifteen  j^ears 
—  been  an  hour  late,  the  curator  had  concluded  he  was 
dead,  and  had  replaced  him.  Buvat  had  lost  his  situation 
for  having  saved  France  !  This  last  stroke  was  more  than 
he  could  bear,  and  he  returned  home  almost  as  ill  as 
Bathilde. 


488  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 


CHAPTER    XLIII. 

BONIFACE. 

As  we  have  seen,  Dubois  urged  on  the  trial  of  D'Harmen- 
tal,  hoping  that  his  revelations  would  furnish  him  with 
weapons  against  those  whom  he  wished  to  attack  ;  but 
D'Harmental  persisted  in  a  total  denial  with  respect  to 
others.  As  to  what  concerned  himself  personally,  he  con- 
fessed everything,  saying  that  his  attempt  on  the  regent 
was  an  act  of  private  revenge  for  the  injustice  which  had 
been  done  him  in  depriving  him  of  his  regiment.  As  to 
the  men  who  had  accompanied  him,  and  who  had  lent 
him  their  aid  in  the  execution  of  his  plans,  he  declared 
that  they  were  two  poor  devils  of  peasants,  who  did  not 
even  know  whom  they  were  escorting.  All  this  was  not 
highly  probable  ;  but  there  was  no  way  of  eliciting  from 
the  examinations  anything  beyond  the  answers  of  the 
accused.  The  consequence  was  that  to  Dubois's  great 
disappointment  the  real  criminals  escaped  his  vengeance, 
under  cover  of  the  persistent  denials  of  the  chevalier,  who 
declared  that  he  had  seen  Monsieur  or  Madame  du  Maine 
only  once  or  twice  in  his  life,  and  that  he  had  never  been 
trusted  with  any  political  mission  by  either  of  them. 

Laval,  Pompadour,  and  Valef  had  been  arrested  and 
taken  to  the  Bastille,  but  they  knew  that  they  might  rely 
upon  the  chevalier;  and  as  the  situation  in  which  they 
found  themselves  had  been  foreseen,  and  it  had  been 
agreed  what  each  should  say,  they  all  entirely  denied  any 
knowledge  of  the  affair,  —  confessing   associations  with 


BONIFACE.  489 

Monsieur  and  Madame  du  Maine,  but  saying  that  those 
associations  were  confined  to  a  respectful  friendship.  As 
to  D'Harmental,  they  knew  him,  they  said,  for  a  man  of 
honor,  who  complained  of  a  great  injustice  which  had 
been  done  to  him.  They  were  confronted,  one  after 
the  other,  with  the  chevalier;  but  these  interviews  had 
no  other  result  than  that  of  confirming  each  in  his  system 
of  defence,  and  showing  each  that  the  system  was  reli- 
giously adhered  to  by  his  companions. 

Dubois  was  furious.  He  reopened  the  proofs  for  the 
affair  of  the  States-General ;  but  that  had  been  settled  by 
the  bed  of  justice,  which  had  condemned  the  King  of 
Spain's  letters,  and  degraded  the  legitimated  princes  from 
their  rank.  Every  one  regarded  them  as  sufficiently  pun- 
ished by  this  judgment,  without  being  subjected  to  a  second 
prosecution  on  the  same  grounds.  Dubois  had  hoped,  by 
the  revelations  of  D'Harmental,  to  expose  Monsieur  and 
Madame  du  Maine  to  new  charges  more  serious  than  the 
first ;  for  this  time  it  was  a  question  of  a  direct  attempt, 
if  not  on  the  life,  at  least  on  the  liberty  of  the  regent ; 
but  the  obstinacy  of  the  chevalier  destroyed  all  his  hopes. 
His  anger  had  therefore  turned  solely  on  D'Harmental; 
and  as  we  have  said,  he  had  ordered  Leblanc  and  D'Argen- 
son  to  expedite  the  prosecution,  —  an  order  which  those 
two  magistrates  obeyed  with  their  usual  promptness. 

During  this  time  Bathilde's  illness  had  progressed  in 
such  a  manner  that  it  had  brought  the  poor  girl  to  death's 
door;  but  at  last  youth  and  vigor  had  triumphed.  To  the 
excitement  of  delirium  had  succeeded  a  complete  and 
utter  prostration ;  one  would  have  said  that  the  fever 
alone  had  sustained  her,  and  that  in  departing  it  had 
taken  life  along  with  it. 

Still  every  day  brought  improvement,  —  slight,  it  is 
true,  but  quite  apparent  to  the  eyes  of  the  good  people 


490  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

who  surrounded  the  bed  of  sickness.  Little  by  little 
Bathilde  had  recognized  those  who  were  about  her ;  then 
she  had  stretched  out  her  hand  to  them,  and  then  spoken 
to  them.  As  yet,  to  the  astonishment  of  every  one, 
Bathilde  had  not  mentioned  the  name  of  D'Harmental ; 
this  was  a  great  relief  to  those  who  watched  her,  for  as 
they  had  none  but  sad  news  to  give  her  about  him,  they 
preferred,  as  will  easily  be  understood,  that  she  should 
remain  silent  on  the  subject.  Every  one  believed,  and 
the  doctor  most  of  all,  that  the  young  girl  had  completely 
forgotten  the  past,  or  if  she  remembered  it,  that  she  con- 
founded the  reality  with  the  dreams  of  her  delirium. 
They  were  all  wrong,  even  the  doctor;  this  is  what  had 
occurred  :  — 

One  morning  when  they  had  thought  Bathilde  sleeping, 
and  had  left  her  alone  for  a  minute,  Boniface,  who,  in 
spite  of  Bathilde's  severity,  still  preserved  a  great  fund  of 
tenderness  toward  her,  half  opened  the  door,  as  was  his 
custom  every  morning  since  she  had  been  ill,  to  ask  news 
of  her.  The  growling  of  Mirza  aroused  Bathilde,  who 
turned  round  and  saw  Boniface.  She  immediately  con- 
ceived the  idea  that  she  might  learn  from  him  that  which 
she  would  ask  in  vain  from  the  others,  —  namely,  what  had 
become  of  D'Harmental,  —  and  therefore,  while  quieting 
Mirza,  she  extended  her  pale  and  emaciated  hand  to  Boni- 
face. Boniface  took  it  between  his  own  two  great  red 
hands ;  then,  looking  at  the  young  girl,  and  shaking  his 
head,  — 

"  Yes,  Mademoiselle  Bathilde,  yes,"  said  he,  "  you  were 
right ;  you  are  a  lady,  and  I  am  only  a  coarse  peasant. 
You  deserved  a  nobleman,  and  it  was  impossible  that 
you  should  love  me." 

"  Not  as  you  wished,  it  is  true,  Boniface,"  said  Ba- 
thilde ;  "  but  I  can  love  you  in  another  manner." 


BONIFACE.  491 

"True,  Mademoiselle  Bathilde,  very  true.  Well,  love 
me  as  you  will,   so  that  you  love  me  a  little." 

"I  can  love  you  as  a  brother." 

"As  a  brother !  You  could  love  poor  Boniface  as  a 
brother,  and  he  might  love  you  as  a  sister !  He  might 
sometimes  hold  your  hand  as  he  holds  it  now,  and  em- 
brace you  as  he  sometimes  embraces  Melie  and  Nais? 
Oh,  speak,  Mademoiselle  Bathilde  !  What  must  I  do  for 
that  1 " 

"  My  friend  —  "  said  Bathilde. 

"  She  has  called  me  her  friend !  "  said  Boniface ;  "  she 
has  called  me  her  friend  !  —  me,  who  have  said  such  things 
about  her.  Listen,  Mademoiselle  Bathilde.  Do  not  call 
me  your  friend  ;  I  am  not  worthy  of  the  name.  You  do 
not  know  what  I  have  said.  I  have  said  that  you  lived 
with  an  old  man ;  but  I  did  not  believe  it,  Mademoiselle 
Bathilde,  on  my  honor,  I  did  not,  —  it  was  anger ;  it  was 
rage.  Mademoiselle  Bathilde,  call  me  beggar,  rascal ;  it 
will  give  me  less  pain  than  to  hear  you  term  me  your 
friend.     Ah,  you  scoundrel  Boniface  !  " 

"  My  friend,"  continued  Bathilde,  "  if  you  have  said  all 
that,  I  pardon  you,  for  now  you  can  not  only  repair  that 
wrong,  but  also  acquire  lasting  claims  upon  my  gratitude." 

"And  what  shall  I  do?  Speak!  Let  me  see!  Must 
I  go  through  the  fire  %  Shall  I  jump  out  of  the  second- 
story  window  ?  Shall  I  —  What  shall  I  do  1  Tell  me, 
no  matter  what  it  is  ! " 

"  No,  no,  my  friend ;  something  much  easier  than  all 
that." 

"  Speak,  Mademoiselle  Bathilde,  speak  !  " 

"  First,  it  is  necessary  that  you  should  swear  to  do  it." 

"  I  swear  by  Heaven  !  " 

"Whatever  they  may  say  to  hinder  you?" 

"  Hinder  me  from  doing  what  you  ask  1     Never  !  " 


492  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

*  Whatever  may  be  the  grief  that  it  may  cause  me  ?  " 

"  Ah,  that  is  a  different  thing.  If  it  is  to  give  you 
pain,   I  would  rather  be  cut  in  pieces." 

"  But  if  I  beg  you,  my  friend,  my  brother  1 "  said 
Bathilde,   in  her  most   persuasive  voice. 

"Oh,  if  you  speak  like  that,  I  shall  cry  like  the 
Fountain  of  the  Innocents  ! "  And  Boniface  began  to 
sob. 

"  You  will  tell  me  all,  then,  my  dear  Boniface  ? " 

"  Everything." 

"  Well,  tell  me  first  —  "     Bathilde  stopped. 

"What?" 

"  Can  you  not  imagine,  Boniface  1 " 

"Yes,  I  think  so.  You  want  to  know  what  has  be- 
come of  Monsieur  Raoul,  do  you  not?" 

"  Oh,  yes  ! "  cried  Bathilde  ;  "  in  Heaven's  name,  what 
has  become  of  him  1 " 

"  Poor  fellow  !  "  murmured  Boniface. 

"  Mon  Dieu  !  is  he  dead  %  "  exclaimed  Bathilde,  sitting 
up  in  the  bed. 

"  No,  happily  not ;  but  he  is  a  prisoner." 

"Where1?" 

"  In  the  Bastille." 

"  I  feared  it,"  said  Bathilde,  sinking  down  in  the  bed  ; 
"in  the  Bastille!     Oh,  mon  Dieu!  mon  Dieu/" 

"  Oh,  now,  it  is  you  who  are  crying,  Mademoiselle 
Bathilde. ' 

11  And  I  am  here  in  this  bed,  chained,  dying  ! "  cried 
Bathilde. 

"  Oh,  do  not  cry  like  that,  Mademoiselle ;  it  is  your 
poor  Boniface  who  entreats  you." 

"  No,  I  will  be  firm ;  I  will  have  courage.  See,  Boniface, 
I  weep  no  longer;  but  you  understand,"  she  continued, 
with  increasing  excitement,  for  the  fever  gained  on  her, 


BONIFACE.  493 

"  that  I  must  know  everything  from  hour  to  hour,  so  that 
when  he  dies  I  may  die." 

"  You  die,  Mademoiselle  Bathilde  !  never,  never !  " 
"  I  have  promised  him  I  would;  I  have  sworn  it.    Boni- 
face, you  will  keep  me  informed  of  everything  ? " 
"  Oh,  wretch  that  I  am,  what  have  I  promised  ! " 
"  And  if  it   must  he  at  the   moment,  —  the   terrible 
moment,  —  you  will  aid  me,  you  will  conduct  me,  will 
you   not,    Boniface  1      I  must  see  him  again  —  once  — 
once  more  —  though  it  be  on  the  scaffold." 

"  I  will  do  all  you  desire,  Mademoiselle,"  said  Boniface, 
falling  on  his  knees,  and  trying  vainly  to  restrain  his 
sobs. 

*  You  promise  me  ? " 
"I  swear  it." 

"  Silence  !  some  one  is  coming.  Not  a  word  of  this ;  it 
is  a  secret  between  us  two.  Rise  ;  wipe  your  eyes  ;  do  as 
I  do,  —  smile."  And  Bathilde  began  to  laugh  with  a 
feverish  nervousness  that  was  frightful  to  see.  Fortu- 
nately, it  was  Buvat  who  came  in ;  and  Boniface  profited 
by  his  entrance  to  depart. 

"  Well,  how  are  you  % "  asked  the  good  man. 

u  Better,  little  father,  —  much  better ;  I  feel  my  strength 
returning.  In  a  few  days  I  shall  be  able  to  rise.  But  you, 
little  father,  why  do  you  not  go  to  the  office  % "  Buvat 
sighed  deeply.  u  It  was  kind  not  to  leave  me  when  I  was 
ill,  but  now  that  I  am  getting  better,  you  must  return  to 
the  library  ;  do  you  hear,  little  father  1 " 

"  Yes,  my  child,  yes,"  said  Buvat,  swallowing  his  sobs. 
"  Yes,  I  am  going." 

*  Are  you  going  without  kissing  me  1 " 
"  No,  my  child,  on  the  contrary." 

"  Why,  here  you  are  crying,  and  yet  you  see  that  I  am 
better.     Do  you  want  me  to  die  of  grief  ? " 


494  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

11 1  cry  ! "  said  Buvat,  wiping  his  eyes  with  his  hand- 
kerchief. "  I  crying  !  If  I  am  crying,  it  is  only  for 
joy.  Yes,  I  am  going,  my  child, — to  my  office  j  I  am 
going." 

And  Buvat,  after  having  embraced  Bathilde,  returned 
home,  —  for  he  would  not  tell  his  poor  child  that  he  had 
lost  his  place,  —  and  the  young  girl  was  left  alone. 

Then  she  breathed  more  freely ;  her  mind  was  at  rest. 
Boniface,  in  his  capacity  as  clerk  to  an  attorney  at  Chatelet, 
was  in  the  very  position  that  Avould  enable  him  to  hear  of 
whatever  might  happen,  and  she  was  sure  that  he  would 
tell  her  everything.  In  fact,  on  the  next  day  she  learned 
that  Raoul  had  been  interrogated,  and  that  he  had  claimed 
to  be  solely  accountable  for  all  that  had  occurred.  The 
day  following  she  learned  that  he  had  been  confronted 
with  Laval,  Yalef,  and  Pompadour,  but  that  the  examina- 
tion had  led  to  no  disclosures.  Faithful  to  his  promise, 
Boniface  every  evening  brought  her  the  day's  news ;  and 
every  evening  Bathilde,  at  this  recital,  however  alarming 
it  might  be,  felt  a  renewal  of  her  strength.  A  fortnight 
passed  thus,  at  the  end  of  which  time  Bathilde  began  to 
get  up  and  walk  a  little  about  the  room,  to  the  great  joy 
of  Buvat,  Nanette,  and  the  whole  Denis  family. 

One  day  Boniface,  contrary  to  his  custom,  returned 
home  from  Joullu's  at  three  o'clock  and  entered  the  room 
of  the  sufferer.  The  poor  boy  was  so  pale  and  so  cast 
down  that  Bathilde  understood  that  he  brought  some 
terrible  information ;  and  uttering  a  cry,  she  rose  upright, 
with  her  eyes  fixed  on  him.  "All  is  finished,  then?" 
she  said. 

"  Alas  !  "  answered  Boniface,  "  it  is  all  through  his  own 
obstinacy.  They  offered  him  his  pardon,  —  do  you  under- 
stand, Mademoiselle  Bathilde  1  —  his  pardon,  if  he  would 
r—  and  he  would  not  speak  a  word. 


BONIFACE.  495 

u  Then,*'  cried  Bathilde,  "  no  more  hope ;  he  is  con- 
demned." 

"This  morning,  Mademoiselle  Bathilde,  this  morning." 

"  To  death  1 " 

Boniface  bowed  his  head. 

"  And  when  is  he  to  be  executed  1 " 

"  To-morrow  morning,  at  eight  o'clock." 

"  Very  well,"  said  Bathilde. 

"But  perhaps  there  is  still  hope,"  said  Boniface. 

"What  hope?"  asked  Bathilde. 

"  If  even  now  he  would  denounce  his  accomplices." 

The  young  girl  began  to  laugh,  but  so  strangely  that 
Boniface  shuddered  from  head  to  foot. 

"  Well,"  said  Boniface,  "  who  knows  1  I,  if  I  were  in 
his  place,  for  example,  should  not  fail  to  do  so.  I  should 
say,  '  It  was  not  I,  —  on  my  honor,  it  was  not  I ;  it  was 
such  a  one,  and  such  another,  and  so  on.'  " 

"  Boniface,  I  must  go  out." 

"You,  Mademoiselle  Bathilde  !  "  cried  Boniface,  terrified. 
"You  go  out !  why,  it  would  kill  you." 

"  I  say  I  must  go  out." 

"  But  you  cannot  stand  upright." 

"  You  are  wrong,  Boniface  ;  I  am  strong.  See  !  "  And 
Bathilde  began  to  walk  up  and  down  the  room  with  a  firm 
step. 

"Moreover,"  added  Bathilde,  "you  will  go  and  get  me 
a  carriage." 

"  But,  Mademoiselle  Bathilde  —  " 

"  Boniface,"  said  the  young  girl,  "  you  have  promised  to 
obey  me.  Till  this  minute  you  have  kept  your  word ;  are 
you  getting  lax  in  your  devotion  1 " 

"  I,  Mademoiselle  Bathilde  !  I  lax  in  my  devotion  to 
you  *?     You  ask  for  a  carriage ;  I  will  bring  two." 

"  Go,  my  friend,  my  brother,"  said  Bathilde. 


496  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

"  Oh,  Mademoiselle  Bathilde,  with  such  words  you  can 
make  me  do  everything  you  wish.  In  five  minutes  the 
carriage  will  be  here."     And  Boniface  ran  out. 

Bathilde  had  on  a  loose  white  robe ;  she  tied  it  in  with 
a  girdle,  threw  a  cloak  over  her  shoulders,  and  got  ready. 
As  she  was  advancing  to  the  door,  Madame  Denis  entered. 

"  Oh,  my  dear  child,  what  in  Heaven's  name  are  you 
going  to  do? " 

"  Madame,"  said  Bathilde,  "  it  is  necessary  that  I  should 
go  out." 

"  Go  out !  you  are  mad  !  " 

"  No,  Madame,"  said  Bathilde,  with  a  sad  smile,  "  I  am 
in  perfect  possession  of  my  senses ;  but  you  would  drive 
me  mad  by  retaining  me." 

"  But  at  least  tell  me  where  you  are  going,  my  dear 
child." 

"  Do  you  not  know  that  he  is  condemned,  Madame  1 " 

"Oh,  mon  Dieu!  mon  Dieu  !  who  told  you  that?  I  had 
asked  every  one  to  keep  from  you  that  horrible  news." 

"  Yes,  and  to-morrow  you  would  have  told  me  that  he 
was  dead.  And  I  should  have  answered, '  You  have  killed 
him,  for  I  had  a  means  of  saving  him  perhaps.'  " 

"  You,  you,  my  child !  you  have  a  means  of  saving 
him  % " 

"  I  said  perhaps,  Madame.  Let  me  try  that  means  ;  it 
is  the  only  one  remaining." 

"Go,  my  child,"  said  Madame  Denis,  struck  by  the 
inspired  tone  of  Bathilde's  voice  ;  "go,  and  may  God 
guide  you  !  " 

Bathilde  went  out,  descended  the  staircase  with  a  slow 
but  firm  step,  crossed  the  street,  ascended  the  four  stories 
without  resting,  and  opened  the  door  of  her  room,  which 
she  had  not  entered  since  the  day  of  the  catastrophe.  At 
the  noise  which  she  made,  Nanette  came  out  of  the  inner 


BONIFACE.  497 

room,  and  uttered  a  cry ;  she  thought  she  saw  the  ghost 
of  her  young  mistress. 

"Well,"  asked  Bathilde,  in  a  grave  tone,  "what  is  it, 
my  good  Nanette  1 " 

"  Oh,  mon  Dim !  "  cried  the  poor  woman,  trembling, 
u  is  that  really  you,  or  is  it  your  spirit  ? " 

"  It  is  I,  Nanette,  —  myself ;  touch  me,  kiss  me.  Thank 
God,  I  am  not  yet  dead." 

"  And  why  have  you  left  Madame  Denis's  house  ?  Have 
they  said  anything  to  wound  you  % " 

"  No,  Nanette ;  but  I  have  something  to  do  which  is 
necessary,  indispensable." 

"  You  go  out  in  your  present  state !  you  will  kill  your- 
self !  Monsieur  Buvat !  Monsieur  Buvat !  here  is  our  young 
lady  going  out ;  come  and  tell  her  that  it  must  not  be." 

Bathilde  turned  toward  Buvat  with  the  intention  of 
employing  her  ascendency  over  him,  if  he  endeavored  to 
stop  her ;  but  she  saw  him  with  so  sorrowful  a  face  that 
she  did  not  doubt  that  he  knew  the  fatal  news.  On  his 
part,  Buvat  burst  into  tears  on  seeing  her. 

"  My  father,"  said  Bathilde,  "  what  has  been  done  to-day 
has  been  the  work  of  men ;  what  remains  is  in  the  hands 
of  God,  and  He  will  have  pity  on  us." 

"  Oh  ! "  cried  Buvat,  sinking  into  a  chair,  "it  is  I  who 
have  killed  him  !  it  is  I  who  have  killed  him !  " 

Bathilde  went  up  to  him  solemnly  and  kissed  him  on 
his  forehead. 

"  But  what  are  you  going  to  do,  my  child  1 " 

"  My  duty,"  answered  Bathilde. 

She  opened  a  little  cupboard  in  the  prie-Dieu,  took  out 
a  black  pocket-book,  opened  it,  and  drew  out  a  letter. 

"  Oh,  you  are  right !  you  are  right,  my  child  !  I  had 
forgotten   that  letter." 

"  I  have   remembered   it,"  answered  Bathilde,   kissing 
32 


498  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

the  letter,  and  placing  it  next  her  heart,  "  for  it  was  the 
sole  inheritance  my  mother  left  me." 

At  that  moment  they  heard  the  noise  of  a  carriage  at 
the  door. 

"  Adieu,  father  !  adieu,  Nanette  ! "  said  Bathilde.  "Pray 
for  my  success."  And  she  went  away  with  a  solemn 
gravity  which  made  her,  in  the  eyes  of  those  who  watched 
her,  seem  to  be  like  a  saint. 

At  the  door  she  found  Boniface  waiting  with  the 
carriage. 

"Shall  I  go  with  you,  Mademoiselle  Bathilde?"  he 
asked. 

"No,  no,  my  friend,"  said  Bathilde,  "not  now;  to- 
morrow,   perhaps." 

She  entered  the  carriage. 

"  Where  to  ?  "  asked  the  coachman. 

"  To  the  Arsenal." 


THE  THREE  VISITS.  499 


CHAPTER    XLIV. 

THE    THREE   VISITS. 

On  arriving  at  the  Arsenal,  Bathilde  asked  for  Made- 
moiselle de  Launay,  who,  at  her  request,  led  her  at  once 
to  Madame  du  Maine. 

"  Ah,  it  is  you,  my  child  ! "  said  the  duchess,  with  a 
distracted  air  and  voice ;  "  it  is  well  to  remember  one's 
friends  when  they  are  in  misfortune." 

"Alas,  Madame!"  replied  Bathilde,  "I  come  to  your 
royal  Highness  to  speak  of  one  still  more  unfortunate. 
Doubtless  your  royal  Highness  has  lost  some  of  your 
titles,  some  of  your  dignities ;  but  at  that  point  vengeance 
will  stop,  for  no  one  would  dare  to  attack  the  life,  or  even 
the  liberty,  of  the  son  of  Louis  XIV.  or  the  granddaughter 
of  the  great  CondeV' 

"  The  life,  no  ;  but  the  liberty,  I  will  not  answer  for  it. 
Do  you  know  that  that  idiot  of  an  Abbe  Brigaud  has  got 
himself  arrested  three  days  ago  at  Orleans,  dressed  as  a 
pedler,  and  —  on  false  revelations,  which  they  represented 
to  him  as  coming  from  me  —  has  confessed  all  and  com- 
promised us  terribly,  so  that  I  should  not  be  astonished  at 
being  arrested  this  very  day  ?  " 

"  He  for  whom  I  come  to  implore  your  pity,  Madame, 
has  revealed  nothing,  but,  on  the  contrary,  is  condemned 
to  death  for  having  kept  silence." 

"  Ah,  my  dear  child, "  cried  the  duchess,  "  you  speak 
of  poor  D'Harmental ;  he  is  a  noble-hearted  man.  You 
know  him,  then  1 " 


500  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

u  Alas  !  "  said  Mademoiselle  de  Launay,  "  Bathilde  not 
only  knows  him,  but  she  loves  him." 

"  Poor  child  !  but  what  can  I  do  1  You  see  clearly 
that  I  can  do  nothing ;  I  have  no  influence.  For  me  to 
attempt  anything  in  his  favor  would  be  to  take  away 
from  him  the  last  hope  remaining." 

"I  know  it,  Madame,"  said  Bathilde,  "and  I  ask  of 
your  Highness  but  one  thing ;  it  is  that  through  some  of 
your  friends  or  acquaintances  I  may  gain  admission  to 
Monseigneur  the  Eegent.     The  rest   lies  with  me." 

"  My  child,  do  you  know  what  you  are  asking  1 "  in- 
quired the  duchess.  u  Do  you  know  that  the  regent 
respects  no  one  1  Do  you  know  that  you  are  beautiful 
as  an  angel,  and  that  your  paleness  gives  you  a  ravish- 
ing attractiveness  1     Do  you  know  —  " 

"  Madame,"  said  Bathilde,  with  a  lofty  dignity,  "  I 
know  that  my  father  saved  his  life,  and  died  in  his 
service." 

"  Ah,  that !  that  is  another  thing,"  said  the  duchess. 
"  Wait ;  let  me  see,  —  what  is  it  best  to  do  ?  Yes,  that 
is  it;  De  Launay,   call  Malezieux." 

Mademoiselle  de  Launay  obeyed ;  and  a  moment  after- 
ward the  faithful  chancellor  entered. 

"  Malezieux,"  said  the  duchess,  "  you  must  take  this 
child  to  the  Duchesse  de  Berri,  with  a  recommendation 
from  me.  She  must  see  the  regent,  and  at  once,  you 
understand ;  the  life  of  a  man  depends  upon  it,  —  it  is 
that  of  D'Harmental,  whom  I  would  myself  give  so 
much  to  save." 

"  I  go,  Madame,"  said  Malezieux. 

"  You  see,  my  child,"  said  the  duchess,  "  I  do  all  I  can 
for  you  ;  if  I  can  be  useful  to  you  in  any  other  way,  — if 
to  prepare  his  flight  or  to  seduce  a  jailer,  money  is  needed, 
—  I  have  still  some  diamonds,  which  cannot  be  better  em- 


THE  THREE   VISITS.  501 

ployed  than  in  saving  the  life  of  so  brave  a  gentleman. 
Come,  lose  no  time.  Kiss  me,  and  go  at  once  to  my 
niece  ;  you  know  that  she  is   her  father's  favorite." 

"I  know,  Madame,"  said  Bathilde,  "that  you  are  an 
angel ;  and  if  I  succeed,  I  shall  owe  you  more  than  my 
life." 

"  Poor  thing  !  "  said  the  duchess,  looking  at  Bathilde  as 
she  went  away.  Then,  when  Bathilde  was  out  of  sight, 
"Come,  De  Launay,"  continued  Madame  du  Maine, 
who  in  fact  was  expecting  every  moment  to  be  arrested, 
"  let  us  return   to   our  trunks." 

Bathilde,  accompanied  by  Malezieux,  arrived  at  the 
Luxembourg  in  twenty  minutes,  and  thanks  to  the  influ- 
ence of  Malezieux,  she  was  admitted  without  difficulty. 
She  was  conducted  into  a  little  boudoir,  where  she  was 
requested  to  wait  while  the  chancellor  should  see  her 
royal  Highness,  and  inform  her  of  the  favor  they  came 
to  ask. 

Malezieux  acquitted  himself  of  the  commission  with  all 
the  zeal  he  carried  into  affairs  committed  to  him  by  Ma- 
dame du  Maine,  and  Bathilde  had  not  waited  ten  minutes 
when  she  saw  him  return  with  the  Duchesse  de  Berri. 
The  duchess  had  an  excellent  heart,  and  she  had  been 
greatly  moved  by  Malezieux's  recital  j  so  that  when  she 
appeared,  there  was  no  mistaking  the  interest  she  already 
felt  in  the  young  girl  who  came  to  solicit  her  protection. 
Bathilde  came  to  her,  and  would  have  fallen  at  her  feet, 
but  the  duchess  took  her  by  the  hand,  and  kissing  her  on 
the  forehead,  — 

"  My  poor  child,"  said  she,  "  why  did  you  not  come  to 
me  a  week  ago  1 " 

u  And  why  a  week  ago  rather  than  to-day,  Madame  1 " 
asked  Bathilde,  with  anxiety. 

"  Because  a  week  ago  I  should  have  yielded  to  none  the 


502  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

pleasure  of  taking  you  to  my  father;  but  that  now  is 
impossible." 

"  Impossible  !  Oh,  mon  Dieu  !  And  why  1  n  cried 
Bathilde. 

"  Do  you  not  know  that  I  am  in  complete  disgrace  since 
the  day  before  yesterday  1  Alas  !  princess  as  I  am,  I  am 
a  woman  like  you,  and  like  you  I  have  had  the  misfor- 
tune to  love.  We  daughters  of  the  royal  race,  you  know, 
have  hearts  that  are  not  our  own  ;  they  are  jewels  that 
constitute  a  portion  of  the  treasure  of  the  crown,  and 
it  is  a  crime  to  dispose  of  them  without  the  authority  of 
the  king  and  his  ministers.  I  have  disposed  of  my  heart, 
and  I  have  nothing  to  say,  for  I  was  pardoned ;  but  I  dis- 
posed of  my  hand,  and  I  am  punished.  For  three  days 
my  lover  has  been  my  husband.  See,  what  a  strange 
thing !  They  make  a  crime  of  what  in  any  one  else 
would  have  been  praised.  My  father  himself  is  angry 
with  me,  and  for  three  days,  —  that  is  to  say,  from  the 
moment  when  I  could  present  myself  before  him  without 
good  reason  for  shame,  —  I  am  forbidden  his  presence. 
Yesterday  my  guard  was  taken  from  me ;  this  morning 
I  presented  myself  at  the  Palais  Royal  and  was  refused 
admittance." 

"  Alas  !  "  said  Bathilde,  u  I  am  very  unfortunate,  for  I 
had  no  hope  but  in  you,  Madame,  and  I  know  no  one 
who  can  introduce  me  to  Monseigneur  the  Regent.  And 
it  is  to-morrow,  Madame,  at  eight  o'clock,  that  they  Avill 
kill  him  whom  I  love  as  you  love  Monsieur  de  Riom. 
Oh,  Madame,  take  pity  on  me,  for  if  you  do  not,  I 
am  lost ! " 

"Mon  Dieu!  Riom,  come  to  our  aid,"  said  the  duchess, 
turning  to  her  husband,  who  entered  at  this  moment. 
"  Here  is  a  poor  child  who  wants  to  see  my  father  with- 
out delay;   her  life  depends  on  the  interview.     Her  life  ! 


THE  THREE  VISITS.  503 

"What  am  I  saying  ?  More  than  her  life,  —  the  life  of 
the  man  she  loves.  Lauzun's  nephew  should  never  be  at 
a  loss  ;  find  us  some  course  to  take,  and  if  it  be  possible,  I 
will  love  you  more  than  ever." 

"  I  have  found  one,"  said  Riom,  smiling. 

"  Oh,  Monsieur,"  cried  Bathilde,  "  tell  it  to  me,  and  I 
will  be  eternally  grateful." 

"  Come,  speak  ! "  said  the  Duchesse  de  Berri,  in  a 
voice  almost  as  eager  as  Bathilde's. 

"  But  it  compromises  your  sister  singularly." 

" Which  one?" 

"  Mademoiselle  de  Valois." 

"Aglae!  how  so?" 

"  Do  you  not  know  that  there  exists  a  kind  of  sorcerer 
who  has  the  power  of  appearing  before  her  day  or  night, 
no  one  knows  how  ? " 

"  Richelieu  ?  It  is  true  !  "  cried  the  Duchesse  de  Berri ; 
"Richelieu  can  help  us.     But  —  " 

" But  what,  Madame?" 

"  He  will  not,  perhaps." 

"  Oh,  I  will  implore  him  so  earnestly  that  he  will  take 
pity  on  me,"  said  Bathilde.  "  Besides,  you  will  speak  a 
word  for  me,  will  you  not  ?  He  will  not  dare  to  refuse 
what  your  Highness  asks." 

a  We  will  do  better  than  that,"  said  the  duchess. 
"  Riom,  call  Madame  de  Mouchy ;  beg  her  to  take  Made- 
moiselle herself  to  the  duke.  Madame  de  Mouchy  is  my 
first  lady  of  honor,  my  child,"  continued  the  duchess, 
turning  to  Bathilde  as  Riom  went  out;  "and  it  is  sup- 
posed that  the  Due  de  Richelieu  owes  her  some  grati- 
tude. You  see  I  could  not  choose  you  a  better 
introductress." 

14  Oh,  thanks,  Madame ! "  cried  Bathilde,  kissing  the 
duchess's  hands ;  "  you  are  right,  and  all  hope  is  not  yet 


504  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

■> 

lost.     And  you  say  that  the  Due  de  Richelieu  is  able  to 

gain  admission  to  the  Palais  Royal  % " 

il  Stay  !  let  us  understand  each  other.  I  do  not  say  so ; 
report  says  so." 

"  Oh,"  cried  Bathilde,  "  if  we  only  find  him  at  home  !  " 

"  Yes,  that  indeed  is  uncertain ;  hut  yet,  let  me  see,  — 
what  time  is  it  1  Scarcely  eight  o'clock.  He  will  probably 
sup  in  town,  and  return  to  dress.  I  will  tell  Madame  de 
Mouchy  to  wait  for  him  with  you.  Will  you  not,"  said 
she,  turning  to  the  lady  of  honor,  who  now  entered,  "  wait 
for  the  duke  till  he  returns  1 " 

"  I  will  do  whatever  your  Highness  orders,"  said  Ma- 
dame de  Mouchy. 

"  Well,  I  order  you  to  obtain  from  the  Due  de  Richelieu 
a  promise  that  Mademoiselle  shall  see  the  regent,  and  I 
authorize  you  to  use  for  this  purpose  whatever  influence 
you  may  possess  over  him." 

4 'Madame  goes  a  long  way,"  said  Madame  de  Mouchy, 
smiling. 

"  Go,  go  !  "  said  the  duchess  j  "  and  do  what  I  tell  you. 
I  assume  all  the  responsibility.  And  you,  my  child,  be 
brave  !  Go  with  Madame ;  and  if  you  hear  bad  things 
said  of  that  poor  Duchesse  de  Berri,  whom  they  hate  so 
much  because  one  day  she  received  the  ambassadors  on 
a  throne  three  steps  from  the  floor,  and  because  at  an- 
other time  she  went  through  the  streets  of  Paris  attended 
by  four  trumpeters,  say  to  those  who  anathematize  me 
that  at  heart  I  am  a  good  woman,  and  that  in  spite  of  all 
these  anathemas  I  hope  that  much  will  be  forgiven  me, 
because  I  have  loved  much.     Is  it  not  so,  Riom  1 " 

"  Oh,  Madame  !  "  cried  Bathilde,  "  I  don't  know  whether 
good  things  or  bad  are  said  of  you,  but  I  know  that  to 
me  you  seem  so  good  and  great  that  I  could  kiss  your 
footsteps." 


THE  THREE  VISITS.  505 

"  Go,  my  child,  go ;  if  you  miss  Monsieur  de  Richelieu, 
you  may  not  know  where  to  find  him,  and  you  will  per- 
haps wait  for  him  in  vain." 

"Since  her  Highness  permits  it,  come,  then,  quick, 
Madame,"  said  Bathilde,  u  for  every  minute  seems  to  me 
an  age." 

A  quarter  of  an  hour  afterward  Bathilde  and  Madame 
de  Mouchy  were  at  Richelieu's  hotel.  Contrary  to  all 
expectation,  he  was  at  home.  Madame  de  Mouchy  entered 
at  once,  followed  by  Bathilde.  They  found  Richelieu 
occupied  with  Raffe,  his  secretary,  in  burning  a  number 
of  useless  letters,  and  putting  others  in  order. 

"  Eh,  bon  Dieu,  Madame  !  "  said  Richelieu,  coming  for- 
ward with  a  smile  on  his  lips,  "  what  good  wind  blows 
you  here?  And  to  what  event  do  I  owe  the  happiness 
of  receiving  you  at  my  house  at  half-past  eight  in  the 
evening  1 " 

"To  my  wish  to  enable  you  to  do  a  good  action, 
Duke." 

u  Ah,  really  1     In  that  case,  make  haste,  Madame." 

"  Do  you  leave  Paris  this  evening  1 " 

"  No ;  but  I  am  going  to-morrow  morning,  —  to  the 
Bastille." 

"What  joke  is  this?" 

"  I  assure  you  it  is  no  joke  at  all  to  leave  my  hotel, 
where  I  am  very  comfortable,  for  that  of  the  king,  where 
I  shall  be  just  the  reverse.  I  know  it,  for  this  will  be  my 
third  visit." 

"  But  what  makes  you  think  you  will  be  arrested  to- 
morrow ? " 

"  I  have  been  warned." 

"  By  a  sure  person  1 " 

*  Judge  for  yourself."  And  he  handed  a  letter  to  Ma- 
dame de  Mouchy,  who  took  it  and  read,  — 


506  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

"  Innocent  or  guilty,  you  have  only  time  to  fly.  The  re- 
gent has  just  said  aloud  before  me  that  he  has  caught  the  Due 
de  Richelieu  at  last.     To-morrow  you  will  be  arrested." 

"Do  you  think  the  person  in  a  position  to  be  well 
informed  1"  asked  the  duke. 

"  Yes,  for  I  think  I  recognize  the  writing." 

"  You  see,  then,  that  I  was  right  in  telling  you  to  make 
haste.  Now,  if  it  is  a  thing  which  may  be  done  in  the 
space  of  a  night,  speak  ;  I  am  at  your  orders." 

"  An  hour  will  suffice/' 

*  Tell  me,  then;  you  know,  Madame,  that  I  can  refuse 
you  nothing." 

"  Well,"  said  Madame  de  Mouchy,  "  the  thing  is  told  in 
a  few  words.  Do  you  intend  this  evening  to  go  and  thank 
the  person  who  gave  you  this  advice  % " 

11  Perhaps,"  said  the  duke,  laughing. 

"  Well,  you  must  present  Mademoiselle  to  her." 

"  Mademoiselle !  **  cried  the  duke,  astonished,  and  turn- 
ing toward  Bathilde,  who  till  then  had  remained  in  the 
background,  and  partially  concealed  in  the  obscurity ; 
"  and  who  is  Mademoiselle  1 " 

"  A  young  girl  who  loves  the  Chevalier  d'Harmental,  — 
who  is  to  be  executed  to-morrow,  as  you  know,  and  whose 
pardon  she  wishes  to  ask  from  the  regent." 

"  You  love  the  Chevalier  d'Harmental,  Mademoiselle  ? " 
said  the  duke,  addressing  Bathilde. 

"  Oh,  Monsieur !  "  stammered  Bathilde,  blushing. 

"  Do  not  conceal  it,  Mademoiselle.  He  is  a  noble  young 
man,  and  I  would  give  ten  years  of  my  own  life  to  save 
him.  And  do  you  think  you  have  any  means  of  interest- 
ing the  regent  in  his  favor  ] " 

"I  believe  so." 

"  Good !  I  only  hope  it  may  be  so.  Madame,"  con- 
tinued the  duke,  turning  to  Madame  de  Mouchy, 


THE  THREE  VISITS.  507 

to  her  royal  Highness,  and  tell  her  from  me  that  Made- 
moiselle shall  see  the  regent  in  an  hour." 

"Oh,  Monsieur  le  Due  !  "  cried  Bathilde. 

"Decidedly,  my  dear  Richelieu,"  said  Madame  de 
Mouchy,  "  I  begin  to  believe  what  is  said  of  you, —  that 
you  have  made  a  compact  with  the  Devil,  and  can  pass 
through  key-holes ;  and  I  confess  I  shall  be  less  uneasy 
now  in  seeing  you  go  to  the  Bastille/' 

"  At  any  rate,  you  know,  Madame,  that  charity  teaches 
us  to  visit  prisoners ;  and  if  you  retain  any  recollection  of 
poor  Armand  —  " 

"  Silence,  Duke  !  Be  discreet,  and  we  will  see  what  can 
be  done  for  you.  Meanwhile,  you  promise  that  Made- 
moiselle shall  see  the  regent  % " 

"  It  is  a  settled  thing." 

"In  that  case,  adieu,  Duke;  and  may  the  Bastille  be 
made  comfortable  to  you ! " 

"Is  it  adieu  you  say  1 " 

"  Au  revoir  !  " 

"  That  is  better ; "  and  having  kissed  Madame  de 
Mouchy's  hand,  Richelieu  led  her  to  the  door.  Then, 
returning  to  Bathilde, — 

"  Mademoiselle,"  said  he,  "  what  I  am  about  to  do  for 
you  compromises  the  reputation  and  honor  of  a  princess 
of  the  blood ;  but  the  gravity  of  the  occasion  demands 
some  sacrifice.  Swear  to  me,  then,  that  you  will  never 
tell  but  to  one  person,  —  for  I  know  there  are  persons  for 
whom  one  has  no  secrets,  —  swear  that  you  will  never 
speak  of  what  you  are  about  to  see,  and  that  no  one  — 
excepting  him  —  shall  know  in  what  manner  you  gained 
admission  to  the  regent." 

"  Oh,  Monsieur  le  Due,  I  swear  it  by  all  I  hold  most 
sacred  in  the  world,  —  by  my  mother's  memory  !  " 

"  That  will  suffice,"  said  the  duke,  ringing  a  bell.  A 
valet-de-chambre  entered. 


503  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

"  Lafosse,"  said  the  duke,  "the  bay  horses  and  the  car- 
riage without  arms." 

"  Monsieur  le  Due,"  said  Bathilde,  "  if  you  would  save 
time,  I  have  a  hired  carriage  below." 

"  Very  well ;  that  is  still  better.  I  am  at  your  orders, 
Mademoiselle." 

"  Am  I  to  go  with  Monsieur  le  Due  1 "  asked  the 
servant. 

"  No ;  stay  and  help  Raffe  to  put  these  papers  in  order. 
There  are  several  which  it  is  quite  unnecessary  for  Dubois 
to  see." 

And  the  duke  offered  his  arm  to  Bathilde,  went  down 
with  her,  handed  her  into  the  carriage,  and  after  telling 
the  coachman  to  stop  at  the  corner  of  the  Rue  St. 
Honore  and  the  Rue  de  Richelieu,  placed  himself  by  her 
side,  as  unconcerned  in  his  demeanor  as  if  he  was  not 
aware  that  the  fate  from  which  he  was  attempting  to 
deliver  the  chevalier  might  be  his  own  within  a  fort- 
night. 


THE  CLOSET.  509 


CHAPTEK  XLV. 


THE   CLOSET. 


The  carriage  stopped  at  its  destination,  and  Richelieu, 
getting  out  and  assisting  Bathilde  to  alight,  took  a  key 
from  his  pocket,  and  opened  the  door  of  a  house  at  the 
corner  of  the  Rue  de  Richelieu. 

"  I  must  ask  your  pardon,  Mademoiselle,"  said  he, 
offering  his  arm  to  Bathilde,  "  for  leading  you  hy  "badly 
lighted  staircases  and  passages ;  but  I  am  anxious  not  to 
be  recognized,  should  any  one  meet  me  here.  We  have 
not  far  to  go." 

When  he  had  ascended  about  twenty  steps,  he  stopped, 
drew  a  second  key  from  his  pocket  and  opened  a  door, 
then  entered  an  antechamber,  and  taking  a  candle,  went 
back  to  light  it  by  the  lamp  on  the  staircase. 

"  Once  again  I  must  ask  pardon,  Mademoiselle,"  said 
the  duke  ;  "  but  you  will  soon  understand  why  I  prefer  to 
dispense  with  a  servant  here." 

It  mattered  little  to  Bathilde  whether  the  duke  had 
a  servant  or  not  ;  she  entered  the  antechamber  without 
replying,  and  the  duke  locked  the  door  behind  her. 

"  Now  follow  me,"  said  Richelieu ;  and  he  walked  before 
the  young  girl,  lighting  her  with  the  candle  which  he  held 
in  his  hand.  They  crossed  a  dining-room  and  drawing- 
room,  then  entered  a  bedroom,  where  the  duke  stopped. 

"  Mademoiselle,"  said  he,  placing  the  candle  on  the 
chimney-piece,  "  I  have  your  word  that  you  will  reveal 
nothing  of  what  you  are  about  to  see?" 


510  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

"  I  have  given  you  my  promise,  Monsieur  le  Due,  and 
I  now  renew  it.  Oh,  I  should  be  ungrateful  indeed  if  I 
should  fail  to  keep  it." 

"  Well,  then,  be  the  third  in  our  secret.  It  is  a  secret 
of  love  ;  we  put  it  under  the  safeguard  of  love." 

The  Due  de  Richelieu,  sliding  away  a  panel  in  the 
woodwork,  disclosed  an  opening  in  the  wall,  beyond  which 
was  the  back  of  a  closet,  on  which  he  knocked  softly 
three  times.  Presently  they  heard  a  key  turn  in  the  lock, 
and  saw  a  light  between  the  boards ;  then  a  low  voice 
asked,  "  Is  it  you  1 "  On  the  duke's  replying  in  the  af- 
firmative, three  of  the  boards  were  quietly  detached,  the 
opening  thus  made  affording  a  means  of  communication 
from  one  room  to  the  other ;  and  the  duke  and  Bathilde 
found  themselves  in  the  presence  of  Mademoiselle  de 
Valois,  who  uttered  a  cry  on  seeing  her  lover  accompanied 
by  a  woman. 

"  Fear  nothing,  dear  Aglae,"  said  the  duke,  passing  into 
the  room  where  she  was,  and  taking  her  hand,  while 
Bathilde  remained  motionless  in  her  place,  not  daring  to 
move  a  step  till  her  presence  was  explained.  "  You  will 
presently  thank  me  for  having  betrayed  the  secret  of  our 
blessed  closet." 

"But,  Monsieur  le  Due,  will  you  tell  me  — "  began 
Mademoiselle  de  Valois,  pausing  after  these  interrogative 
words  and  looking  at  Bathilde  uneasily. 

"  This  very  instant,  very  beautiful  Princess.  You  have 
heard  me  speak  of  the  Chevalier  d'Harmental,  have  you 
not?" 

"  The  day  before  yesterday  you  told  me  that  by  a  word 
he  might  save  his  own  life  and  compromise  you  all,  but 
that  he  would  not  speak  that  word." 

"  Well,  he  has  not  spoken  ;  and  he  is  condemned  to 
death,  and  is  to  be  executed  to-morrow.     This  young  girl 


THE  CLOSET.  511 

loves  him,  and  his  pardon  depends  on  the  regent.      Do 
you  understand  1 " 

"  Oh,  yes,  yes  !  "  said  Mademoiselle"  de  Yalois. 

"  Come,  Mademoiselle,"  said  the  duke  to  Bathilde,  taking 
her  by  the  hand ;  then,  turning  again  to  the  princess,  "  She 
did  not  know  how  to  reach  your  father,  my  dear  Aglae, 
and  came  to  rne  just  as  I  had  received  your  letter.  I  had 
to  thank  you  for  the  good  advice  you  gave  me ;  and  as 
I  know  your  heart,  I  thought  I  should  please  you  by  show- 
ing my  gratitude  in  offering  you  an  opportunity  to  save 
the  life  of  a  man  to  whose  silence  you  probably  owe  my 
own." 

"And  you  were  right,  my  dear  Duke.  You  are  wel- 
come, Mademoiselle.     What  can  I  do  for  you  1 " 

"I  wish  to  see  Monseigneur  the  Eegent,"  said  Bathilde, 
"and  your  Highness  can  take  me  to  him." 

"  Will  you  wait  for  me,  Duke  1 "  asked  Mademoiselle  de 
Valois,  uneasily. 

"  Can  you  doubt  it  ]  " 

"  Then  go  into  the  closet,  lest  any  one  should  surprise 
you  here.  I  will  take  Mademoiselle  to  my  father,  and 
return  immediately." 

"  I  will  wait,"  said  the  duke,  following  the  instructions 
of  the  princess  and  entering  the  closet.  Mademoiselle  de 
Valois  exchanged  a  few  whispered  words  with  her  lover, 
locked  the  closet,  put  the  key  in  her  pocket,  and  holding 
out  her  hand  to  Bathilde,  — 

"  Mademoiselle,"  said  she,  "  all  women  who  love  are 
sisters.    Armand  and  you  did  well  to  rely  upon  me ;  come." 

Bathilde  kissed  the  hand  the  princess  offered,  and  fol- 
lowed her.  They  passed  through  all  the  rooms  facing  the 
square  of  the  Palais  Royal,  and  then,  turning  to  the  left, 
entered  those  which  looked  on  the  Rue  de  Valois,  among 
which  was  the  regent's  bedroom. 


512  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HAIIMENTAL. 

"  We  have  arrived,"  said  Mademoiselle  de  Valois,  stop- 
ping before  a  door,  and  turning  to  Bathilde,  who,  on  re- 
ceiving this  information,  trembled  and  turned  pale ;  for 
all  the  moral  force  which  had  sustained  her  for  the  last 
three  or  four  hours  was  ready  to  disappear  just  when  she 
needed  it  the  most. 

"Oh,  mon  Dieuf  I  shall  never  dare  to  speak,"  said 
Bathilde. 

"  Courage,  Mademoiselle-!  my  father  is  kind.  Enter  j 
fall  at  his  feet ;  God  and  his  own  heart  will  do  the  rest." 

At  these  words,  seeing  that  the  young  girl  still  hesitated, 
she  opened  the  door,  pushed  Bathilde  in,  and  closed  it  be- 
hind her.  She  then  ran  down  with  a  light  step  to  rejoin 
Eichelieu,  leaving  Bathilde  to  plead  her  cause  alone  with 
the  regent. 

At  this  unforeseen  action  Bathilde  uttered  a  low  cry; 
and  the  regent,  who  was  walking  to  and  fro  with  his  head 
bent  down,  raised  his  head,  and  turned  around.  Bathilde, 
incapable  of  making  a  step  in  advance,  fell  on  her  knees, 
drew  out  her  letter,  and  held  it  toward  the  regent. 

The  regent's  sight  was  imperfect ;  he  did  not  see  clearly 
what  was  taking  place,  and  advanced  toward  this  woman, 
who  appeared  to  him  in  the  shade  as  a  white  and  indis- 
tinct form.  Immediately,  in  that  form,  at  first  unknown, 
he  recognized  a  woman,  and  in  that  form  of  a  woman, 
a  young  girl  beautiful  and  in  a  suppliant  attitude. 

As  to  the  poor  child,  in  vain  she  attempted  to  articulate 
a  prayer.  Voice  and  strength  failing  her  together,  she 
would  have  fallen  if  the  regent  had  not  supported  her  in 
his  arms. 

"Mon  Lieu  f  Mademoiselle,"  said  the  regent,  on  whom 
the  signs  of  grief  produced  their  ordinary  effect,  "  what  is 
the  matter  1  What  can  I  do  for  you  1  Come  to  this  arm- 
chair, I  entreat  you." 


THE  CLOSET.  513 

*  No,  Monseigneur,  it  is  at  your  feet  that  I  should  be, 
for  I  come  to  ask  a  boon." 

"And  what  is  it?" 

"  See  first  who  I  am,  Monseigneur,  and  then  I  may- 
dare  to  speak;"  and  she  held  out  the  letter,  on  which 
rested  her  only  hope,  to  the  Due  d'Orle'ans. 

The  regent  took  the  letter,  and  by  the  light  of  a  candle 
which  burned  on  the  chimney-piece  recognized  his  own 
writing,  and  read  as  follows  :  — 

Madame,  —  Your  husband  has  died  for  France  and  for  me. 
Neither  France  nor  I  can  give  you  back  your  husband  ;  but 
remember  that  if  ever  you  are  in  want  of  anything  we  are 
both  your  debtors.  Your  affectionate 

Philippe  d'Orleans. 

"  I  recognize  this  letter  perfectly  as  my  own,"  said  the 
regent ;  "  but  to  the  shame  of  my  memory  I  must  confess 
that  I  do  not  know  to  whom  it  was  written." 

"  Look  at  the  address,  Monseigneur,"  said  Bathilde,  a 
little  reassured  by  the  expression  of  benevolence  on  the 
duke's  face. 

"  Clarice  du  Rocher !  "  cried  the  regent.  "  Yes,  indeed, 
I  remember  now ;  I  wrote  this  letter  from  Spain  after  the 
death  of  Albert,  who  was  killed  at  the  battle  of  Almanza. 
I  wrote  this  letter  to  his  widow.  How  did  it  fall  into 
your  hands,  Mademoiselle  1  n 

"  Alas,  Monseigneur,  I  am  the  daughter  of  Albert  and 
Clarice." 

"  You,  Mademoiselle  1  And  what  has  become  of  your 
mother  1 " 

"  She  is  dead,  Monseigneur." 

"  Long  since  1 " 

"  Nearly  fourteen  years." 

"But  happy,  doubtless,  and  wanting  nothing  1 " 

"In  despair,  Monseigneur,  and  wanting  everything." 
33 


514  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

"  But  why  did  she  not  apply  to  me  %  " 

u  Your  Highness  was  still  in  Spain." 

"  Oh,  mon  Dieu !  wliat  do  you  say  1  Continue,  Made- 
moiselle, for  you  cannot  imagine  how  much  you  interest 
me.  Poor  Clarice,  poor  Albert !  They  loved  each  other 
so  much,  I  remember.  She  could  not  survive  him.  Do 
you  know  that  your  father  saved  my  life  at  Nerwinden, 
Mademoiselle  1 " 

"  Yes,  Monseigneur,  I  know  it ;  and  that  gave  me  cour- 
age to  present  myself  before  you." 

"But  you,  poor  child,  poor  orphan,  what  became  of  you?" 

"  I,  Monseigneur,  was  taken  by  a  friend  of  our  family, 
a  poor  writer  called  Jean  Buvat." 

"Jean  Buvat!  "  cried  the  regent,  "wait!  I  know  that 
name.  Jean  Buvat !  Why,  that  is  the  poor  devil  of  a 
copyist  who  discovered  the  whole  conspiracy,  and  who 
some  days  ago  made  his  demands  in  person.  A  place  in 
the  library,  was  it  not,  —  some  arrears  due  ] " 

"The  same,  Monseigneur." 

"  Mademoiselle,"  replied  the  regent,  "  it  appears  that 
those  who  surround  you  are  destined  to  save  me.  I  am 
thus  twice  your  debtor.  You  said  you  had  a  boon  to  ask 
of  me.     Speak  boldly  ;  I  listen  to  you." 

"  Oh,  my  God,"  murmured  Bathilde,  "  give  me 
strength !  " 

"  Is  it,  then,  a  very  important  and  difficult  thing  that 
you  desire  1 " 

"  Monseigneur,"  said  Bathilde,  "it  is  the  life  of  a  man 
*^ho  has  deserved  death." 

"  Is  it  the  Chevalier  d'Harmental  ?  " 

"  Alas,  Monseigneur,  it  is." 

The  regent's  brow  became  pensive,  while  Bathilde, 
seeing  the  impression  produced  by  her  demand,  felt  her 
heart  beat  and  her  knees  tremble. 


THE  CLOSET.  515 

u  Is  be  your  relative,  your  ally,  your  friend  1 " 

"  He  is  my  life,  lie  is  my  soul,  Monseigneur ;  I  love  him." 

"  But  do  you  know  that  if  I  pardon  him  I  must  pardon 
all  the  rest,  and  that  there  are  some  still  more  guilty  than 
he  is?" 

"  His  life  only,  Monseigneur ;  all  I  ask  is  that  he  may 
live." 

"  But  if  I  change  his  sentence  to  a  perpetual  imprison- 
ment, you  will  never  see  him  again.  What  would  become 
of  you  then  1 "  asked  the  regent. 

Bathilde  was  obliged  to  support  herself  by  the  back  of 
a  chair. 

"  I  would  enter  into  a  convent,  where  I  could  pray  the 
rest  of  my  life  for  you,  Monseigneur,  and  for  him." 

"That  cannot  be,"  said  the  regent. 

"  Why  not,  Monseigneur  1 " 

"Because  this  very  day,  this  very  hour,  I  have  been 
asked  for  your  hand,  and  have  promised  it." 

"  You  have  promised  my  hand,  Monseigneur  1  and  to 
whom  1 " 

"  Head,"  said  the  regent,  taking  an  open  letter  from  his 
desk,  and  presenting  it  to  the  young  girl. 

"  Kaoul !  "  cried  Bathilde  ;  "  Raoul's  writing  !  Oh,  mon 
Bleu !  what  is  the  meaning  of  this  1 " 

"  Read,"  repeated  the  regent. 

And  in  a  choking  voice  Bathilde  read  the  following 
letter  :  — 

Monseigneur,  —  I  have  deserved  death  ;  I  know  it,  and 
I  do  not  ask  you  for  life.  I  am  ready  to  die  at  the  day 
and  hour  appointed  ;  but  it  depends  on  your  Highness  to 
make  this  death  sweeter  to  me.  I  love  a  young  girl  whom  I 
should  have  married  if  I  had  lived ;  grant  that  she  may  be  my 
wife  before  I  die.  In  leaving  her  forever  alone  and  friendless 
in  the  world,  let  me  at  least  have  the  consolation  of  giving 


516  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

her  the  safeguard  of  my  name  and  fortune.  On  leaving  the 
church,  Monseigneur,  I  will  walk  to  the  scaffold.  This  is  my 
last  wish,  my  sole  desire.  Do  not  refuse  the  prayer  of  a 
dying  man. 

Raoul  d'Harmental. 

"Oh,  Monseigneur,"  said  Bathilde,  sobbing,  "you  see 
that  while  I  thought  of  him,  he  thought  of  me.  Am  I 
not  right  to  love  him,  when  he  loves  me  so  much  1 " 

"  Yes,"  said  the  regent,  "and  I  grant  his  request ;  it  is 
just.  May  that  favor,  as  he  says  it  will,  sweeten  his  last 
moments  ! " 

"Monseigneur,"  cried  the  young  girl,  "is  that  all  you 
grant  him1? " 

" You  see,"  said  the  regent,  "he  is  just ;  he  asks 
nothing  else." 

"  Oh,  it  is  cruel !  it  is  frightful !  —  to  see  him  again, 
and  lose  him  at  the  same  moment !  His  life,  Monseigneur, 
his  life,  I  implore  you ;  and  let  me  never  see  him  again ! 
I  prefer  that." 

"  Mademoiselle,"  said  the  regent,  in  a  tone  which  ad- 
mitted of  no  reply,  and  writing  some  lines  on  a  paper 
which  he  sealed,  "  here  is  a  letter  to  Monsieur  de  Launay, 
the  governor  of  the  Bastille  ;  it  contains  my  instructions 
with  regard  to  the  prisoner.  My  captain  of  the  Guards 
will  go  with  you,  and  see  that  my  instructions  are 
followed." 

"  Oh,  his  life,  Monseigneur !  his  life !  On  my  knees, 
and  in  the  name  of  Heaven,  I  implore  you ! " 

The  regent  rang  the  bell ;  a  valet  entered. 

"  Call  Monsieur  le  Marquis  de  Lafare,"  he  said. 

"Oh,  Monseigneur,  you  are  cruel !  "  said  Bathilde,  rising. 
"  Permit  me,  then,  to  die  with  him.  We  will  not  be  sepa- 
rated, even  on  the  scaffold ;  we  will  be  together,  even  in 
the  tomb." 


THE  CLOSET.  517 

"  Monsieur  de  Lafare,  accompany  Mademoiselle  to  the 
Bastille,"  said  the  regent.  "  Here  is  a  letter  for  Monsieur 
de  Launay;  read  it  with  him,  and  see  that  the  orders  it 
contains  are  punctually  executed." 

Then,  without  listening  to  Bathilde's  last  cry  of  despair, 
the  Due  d'Orl^ans  opened  the  door  of  a  closet  and 
disappeared. 


518  LE  CHEVALIER  D'tfAKMENTAL. 


CHAPTER   XLVI. 


THE    MARRIAGE    IN    EXTREMIS. 


Lafare  dragged  the  young  girl  away,  almost  dying,  and 
placed  her  in  one  of  the  carriages  always  standing  in  the 
courtyard  of  the  Palais  Eoyal.  While  on  the  way  Ba- 
thilde  did  not  speak ;  she  was  cold,  dumb,  and  inanimate 
as  a  statue.  Her  eyes  were  fixed  and  tearless ;  but  on 
arriving  at  the  fortress,  she  started.  She  fancied  she  had 
seen  in  the  shade,  in  the  very  place  where  the  Chevalier 
de  Rohan  was  executed,  something  like  a  scaffold.  A 
little  later  a  sentinel  cried,  "  Qui  vive  ? "  the  carriage 
rolled  over  a  drawbridge  and  drew  up  at  the  door  of  the 
governor's  house.  A  footman  out  of  livery  opened  the 
door,  and  Lafare  gave  Bathilde  his  arm ;  she  could  scarcely 
stand,  —  all  her  strength  had  left  her  when  hope  left  her. 
Lafare  and  the  valet  were  obliged  almost  to  carry  her  to 
the  first  floor.  Monsieur  de  Launay  was  at  supper.  They 
took  Bathilde  into  a  room  to  wait,  while  Lafare  went  at 
once  to  the  governor.  Ten  minutes  passed,  during  which 
Bathilde  remained,  half-dead,  in  the  armchair  into  which 
she  had  fallen  on  entering  the  room.  The  poor  girl  saw 
but  one  thing,  —  her  lover  on  the  scaffold. 

At  the  end  of  ten  minutes  Lafare  re-entered  with  the 
governor.  Bathilde  looked  at  them  with  a  bewildered  air. 
Lafare  approached  her,  and  offering  her  his  arm, — 

"  Mademoiselle,"  said  he,  "  the  church  is  prepared ;  the 
priest  is  ready." 


THE  MARRIAGE  IN  EXTREMIS.  519 

Bathilde  rose  without  replying.  She  was  pale  and  cold ; 
she  felt  herself  falling,  and  leaned  on  the  arm  which  was 
offered  her.  Monsieur  de  Launay  went  first,  lighted  by 
two  men  bearing  torches. 

As  Bathilde  entered  by  one  of  the  side  doors,  she  saw 
entering  by  the  other  the  Chevalier  d'Harmental  accom- 
panied by  Yalef  and  Pompadour.  These  were  his  wit- 
nesses, as  De  Launay  and  Lafare  were  hers.  Each  door 
was  kept  by  two  of  the  French  Guard,  silent  and  motion- 


The  two  lovers  advanced,  Bathilde  pale  and  fainting, 
Raoul  calm  and  smiling.  On  arriving  before  the  altar, 
the  chevalier  took  Bathilde's  hand,  and  both  fell  on  their 
knees  without  having  spoken  a  word. 

The  altar  was  lighted  only  by  four  wax  tapers,  which 
threw  a  funereal  light  over  the  chapel,  already  dark,  and 
filled  with  gloomy  recollections. 

The  priest  began  the  ceremony ;  he  was  a  fine  old  man 
with  white  hair,  whose  melancholy  countenance  showed 
that  the  daily  exercise  of  his  priestly  functions  left  deep 
traces  on  his  soul.  He  had  been  chaplain  of  the  Bastille 
for  five-and-twenty  years,  and  had  heard  many  sad  confes- 
sions, and  beheld  many  pitiable  scenes.  He  addressed  a 
few  words  to  the  two  kneeling  before  him ;  but  instead  of 
speaking  to  them  of  their  duties  as  husband  and  as  wife 
and  mother,  he  spoke  of  heaven's  peace,  of  the  divine 
pity,  and  of  the  eternal  resurrection.  Bathilde  felt  that 
she  was  suffocating.  Raoul,  seeing  that  she  was  on  the 
point  of  breaking  out  into  weeping,  took  her  hand  and 
looked  at  her  with  a  resignation  so  sad  and  so  profound 
that  the  poor  child  made  a  last  effort  and  restrained  her 
tears.  At  the  moment  of  the  benediction  Bathilde  laid 
her  head  on  Raoul's  shoulder ;  the  priest  thought  she  was 
fainting,  and  stopped. 


520  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

"  Finish,  Father,"  murmured  Bathilde. 

The  priest  pronounced  the  sacramental  words,  to  which 
both  replied  by  a  "  yes  "  in  which  seemed  to  be  concen- 
trated the  whole  strength  of  their  souls. 

The  ceremony  finished,  D'Harmental  asked  Monsieur  de 
Launay  if  he  might  spend  his  few  remaining  hours  with 
his  wife.  Monsieur  de  Launay  replied  that  there  was  no 
objection.  Kaoul  embraced  Pompadour  and  Valef,  thanked 
them  for  having  served  as  witnesses  at  his  marriage, 
pressed  Lafare's  hand,  thanked  Monsieur  de  Launay  for 
his  kindness  to  him  during  his  imprisonment,  and  throw- 
ing his  arm  round  Bathilde,  led  her  away  by  the  door 
through  which  he  had  entered.  When  they  reached 
D'Harmental's  room,  Bathilde  could  no  longer  contain 
her  tears ;  a  despairing  cry  escaped  her  lips ;  and  she  fell 
weeping  on  a  chair,  where  doubtless  D'Harmental  had 
often  sat  thinking  of  her  during  the  three  weeks  of  his 
captivity.  Raoul  threw  himself  at  her  feet,  and  tried  to 
console  her,  but  was  himself  so  much  moved  by  her  grief 
that  his  own  tears  mingled  with  hers.  That  heart  of  iron 
melted  in  its  turn,  and  Bathilde  felt  at  once  on  her  lips 
the  tears  and  the  kisses  of  her  lover. 

They  had  been  about  half  an  hour  together  when  they 
heard  steps  approaching  the  door,  and  a  key  turning  in 
the  lock.  Bathilde  started,  and  pressed  D'Harmental 
convulsively  against  her  heart.  Raoul  understood  the 
dreadful  fear  which  crossed  her  mind,  and  reassured  her. 
It  could  not  be  what  she  dreaded,  since  the  execution  was 
fixed  for  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning,  and  eleven  had 
only  just  struck. 

It  was  Monsieur  de  Launay  who  appeared.  "  Monsieur 
le  Chevalier,"  said  he,  "  have  the  kindness  to  follow  me." 

"  Alone  1 "  asked  D'Harmental,  clasping  Bathilde  in 
his  arms. 


THE  MARRIAGE  IN  EXTREMIS.  521 

"  No,  with  Madame,"  replied  the  governor. 

"  Oh,  together,  Eaoul,  together  ! "  cried  Bathilde ; 
*  where  they  like,  so  that  we  are  together.  We  are  ready, 
Monsieur;  we  are  ready." 

Eaoul  took  Bathilde  in  his  arms  for  a  last  emhrace  ; 
then,  recalling  all  his  pride,  he  followed  Monsieur  de 
Launay  with  a  face  which  showed  no  trace  of  the  terrible 
emotion  he  had  experienced.  They  passed  through  some 
ill-lighted  corridors,  descended  a  spiral  staircase,  and 
found  themselves  at  the  door  of  a  tower.  This  door 
opened  into  a  yard  surrounded  by  high  walls,  which 
served  as  a  promenade  to  those  prisoners  who  were  not  in 
secret  confinement.  In  this  courtyard  was  standing  a 
carriage  with  two  horses,  on  one  of  which  was  a  postilion  ; 
and  they  saw,  shining  in  the  darkness,  the  cuirasses  of  a 
dozen  musketeers.  A  ray  of  hope  crossed  the  minds  of 
the  two  lovers.  Bathilde  had  asked  the  regent  to  substi- 
tute for  Raoul' s  death  a  perpetual  imprisonment.  Perhaps 
the  regent  had  granted  him  this  favor.  That  carriage, 
ready,  doubtless,  to  conduct  him  to  some  State  prison, 
those  musketeers,  destined,  doubtless,  to  escort  them,  gave 
to  the  supposition  a  semblance  of  reality.  They  raised 
their  eyes  to  heaven  to  thank  God  for  this  unexpected 
happiness.  Meanwhile  Monsieur  de  Launay  had  signed  to 
the  carriage  to  approach  ;  the  postilion  had  obeyed ;  the  door 
was  opened ;  and  the  governor,  with  his  head  uncovered, 
held  his  hand  to  Bathilde,  to  assist  her  into  the  carriage. 

She  hesitated  an  instant,  turning  uneasily  to  see  that 
they  did  not  take  Raoul  away  in  another  direction ;  but 
seeing  that  he  was  ready  to  follow  her,  she  got  in  without 
resistance,  An  instant  afterward  Raoul  was  sitting  by 
her ;  the  door  was  closed ;  and  both  carriage  and  escort 
passed  through  the  gate,  over  the  drawbridge ;  and  they 
found  themselves  outside  of  the  Bastille. 


522  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

They  threw  themselves  into  each  other's  arms ;  there 
was  no  longer  any  doubt ;  the  regent  granted  D'Harmental 
his  life,  and  what  was  more,  consented  not  to  separate 
him  from  Bathilde. 

This  was  what  Bathilde  and  D'Harmental  had  never 
dared  to  hope;  this  life  of  seclusion  —  a  punishment 
to  many  —  would  be  to  them  a  paradise  of  love.  They 
would  see  each  other  continually;  they  would  be  always 
together!  What  beyond  this  had  they  desired  for  their 
future,  even  when  they  were  masters  of  their  own  fate  ? 
A  single  sad  idea  crossed  their  minds ;  and  both,  with 
the  sympathy  of  hearts  who  love,  pronounced  the  name 
of  Buvat. 

At  this  moment  the  carriage  stopped ;  at  such  a  time 
everything  was,  for  the  lovers,  a  cause  of  fear.  They  again 
trembled,  lest  they  should  have  given  way  too  much  to 
hope.     The  door  opened ;  it  was  the  postilion. 

"  What  do  you  want  ?  "  asked  D'Harmental. 

"  I  want  to  know  where  I  am  to  take  you." 

"  Where  you  are  to  take  me  !     Have  you  no  orders  ? " 

"  My  orders  were  to  take  you  to  the  Bois  de  Vincennes, 
between  the  Chateau  and  Nogent-sur-Marne,  and  here  we 
are." 

"  And  where  is  the  escort  1 "  asked  D'Harmental. 

"  Oh,  the  escort  left  us  at  the  barrier  ! " 

"  Oh,  mon  Dieu  /"  cried  D'Harmental,  while  Bathilde, 
panting  with  hope,  clasped  her  hands  in  silence,  "  is  it 
possible  1 " 

The  chevalier  jumped  out  of  the  carriage,  looked  round 
him  anxiously,  and  extended  his  arms  to  Bathilde,  who 
also  alighted ;  then  they  uttered  together  a  cry  of  joy 
and  thankfulness.  They  were  free  as  the  air  they 
breathed ;  but  the  regent  had  ordered  that  they  should 
be  taken  to  the  yery  place  where  D'Harmental  had  car- 


THE  MARRIAGE  IN  EXTREMIS.  523 

ried    off   Bourguignon,    mistaking    him    for    the   regent 
himself.  . 

This  was  the  only  revenge  of  Philippe  le  Debonnaire.        / 

Four  years  after  this  event,  Buvat,  reinstated  in  his      1 
place,  and  with  his  arrears  paid,  had  the  satisfaction  of     / 
placing  a  pen  in  the  hand  of  a  fine  boy  three  years  old. 
He  was  the  son  of  Raoul  and  Bathilde. 

The  first  two  names  which  the  child  wrote  were  Albert 
du  Rocher  and  Clarice  Gray.  The  third  was  that  of 
Philippe  d'Orleans,  Regent  of  France. 


524  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 


POSTSCRIPTUM. 

Perhaps  some  persons  have  taken  sufficient  interest  in 
those  who  have  played  a  secondary  part  in  our  history  to 
wish  to  know  what  became  of  them  after  the  events 
which  defeated  the  conspiracy  and  saved  the  regent.  We 
will  satisfy  them  in  a  few  words. 

The  Due  and  Duchesse  du  Maine,  to  whose  plots  it  was 
determined  to  put  an  end,  were  arrested,  —  the  duke  at 
Sceaux,  and  the  duchess  in  her  house  in  the  Rue  St. 
Honore.  The  duke  was  taken  to  the  chateau  of  Doullens, 
and  the  duchess  to  that  of  Dijon,  and  afterward  to  the 
citadel  of  Chalons.  Both  were  set  at  liberty  at  the  end  of 
a  few  months,  disarming  the  regent,  one  by  an  absolute 
denial,  the  other  by  a  complete  avowal. 

Mademoiselle  de  Launay  was  conducted  to  the  Bastille, 
where  her  captivity,  as  may  be  read  in  the  Memoirs  she 
has  left,  was  much  lightened  by  her  amours  with  the 
Chevalier  de  Mesnil ;  and  after  her  release,  when  lament- 
ing the  infidelity  of  her  dear  prisoner,  she  exclaimed  more 
than  once,  like  Ninon  or  Sophie  Arnould,  "  Oh,  the  good 
times  when  we  were  so  unhappy  !  " 

Richelieu  was  arrested,  as  Mademoiselle  de  Valois  had 
warned  him  that  he  would  be,  the  day  after  that  on  which 
he  had  procured  Bathilde's  interview  with  the  regent ;  but 
his  captivity  was  a  new  triumph  for  him.  When  it  was 
reported  that  the  handsome  prisoner  had  obtained  per- 
mission to  walk  on  the  terrace  of  the  Bastille,  the  Rue 
St.  Antoine  began  to  be  frequented  by  the  most  elegant 


I 


POSTSCRIPTUM.  525 

carriages  in  Paris,  and  became  in  twenty-four  hours  the 
fashionable  promenade.  The  regent  —  who  declared  that 
he  had  proofs  of  the  treason  of  Monsieur  de  Eichelieu 
sufficient  to  lose  him  four  heads  if  he  had  them  —  would 
not,  however,  risk  his  popularity  with  the  fair  sex  by 
keeping  him  long  in  prison.  Richelieu,  again  at  liberty, 
after  a  captivity  of  three  months,  was  more  brilliant  and 
more  sought  after  than  ever ;  but  the  closet  had  been 
walled  up,  and  Mademoiselle  de  Yalois  had  become 
Duchesse  de  Modena. 

The  Abbe  Brigaud  —  arrested,  as  we  have  said,  at 
Orleans  —  was  kept  for  some  time  in  the  prison  of  that 
town,  to  the  great  despair  of  Madame  Denis  and  her 
children ;  but  one  fine  morning,  as  they  were  sitting 
down  to  breakfast,  the  abbe  entered,  as  calm  as  ever. 
They  gave  him  a  boisterous  welcome,  and  plied  him  with 
a  multitude  of  questions  relating  to  the  details  of  his  ad- 
venture ;  but  with  his  habitual  prudence  he  referred  them 
to  his  juridical  declarations,  saying  that  the  affair  had  al- 
ready given  him  so  much  trouble  that  they  would  greatly 
oblige  hrm  by  never  speaking  of  it  any  more.  Now,  as 
the  Abbe"  Brigaud  was  quite  an  autocrat  in  Madame 
Denis's  establishment,  his  desire  was  religiously  respected, 
and  from  that  day  the  affair  was  as  completely  forgotten 
in  the  Rue  du  Temps-Perdu  as  if  it  had  never  existed. 

Some    days   afterward   Pompadour,  Valef,    Laval,   and     -J  / 
Malezieux  went  out  of  prison  in  their  turn,  and  began 
again   to   pay   their   court   to   Madame   du  Maine   as  if 
nothing  had  happened. 

As  to  the  Cardinal  de  Polignac,  he  was  not  even  ar- 
rested ;  he  was  simply  exiled  to  his  Abbey  d'Anchin. 

Lagrange-Chancel,  author  of  the  "  Philippiques,"  was 
summoned  to  the  Palais  Royal.  He  found  the  regent 
there,  expecting  him. 


526  LE  CHEVALIER  D'HARMENTAL. 

"Monsieur,"  asked  the  prince,  "have  you  thought 
concerning  me  all  that  you  have  said  % " 

"  Yes,  Monsieur,"  replied  Lagrange-Chancel. 

"  Very  well ;  that  is  very  fortunate  for  you,  Monsieur," 
replied  the  regent,  "  for  if  you  had  written  such  infamies 
against  your  conscience  I  would  have  had  you  hanged." 

The  regent  sent  him  to  Ste.  Marguerite,  where  he  re- 
mained only  three  or  four  months ;  for  the  regent's 
enemies  having  spread  the  report  that  he  had  caused 
Lagrange-Chancel  to  be  poisoned,  the  prince  found'  no 
better  way  to  give  the  lie  to  that  calumny  than  by  opening 
the  prison  doors  to  the  alleged  deceased,  who  went  forth 
more  than  ever  swollen  with  hatred  and  venom. 

This  last  proof  of  clemency  appeared  to  Dubois  so  out 
of  all  reason  that  he  came  to  the  regent,  intending  to  make 
a  scene  about  it ;  but  the  regent  replied  to  his  complaints 
only  by  repeating  the  refrain  of  the  song  which  Saint- 
Simon  had    made  on  him  :  — 

"  Je  suis  debonnaire,  moi, 
Je  suis  debonnaire." 

This  enraged  Dubois  so  much  that  the  regent,  in  order 
to  pacify  him,  was  obliged  to  transform  him  into  his 
Eminence  the  Cardinal. 

La  Fillon  was  so  puffed  up  by  Dubois's  promotion  that 
she  declared  she  would  receive  from  that  time  forward 
only  those  who  could  trace  their  noble  descent  as  far  back 
as  1399.  It  should  be  said  also  that  her  house  had  lost 
one  of  its  most  illustrious  inmates.  Three  days  after  the 
death  of  Captain  Roquefinette,  La  Norman de  entered  the 
house  of  the  Filles-Repenties. 


THE  END. 


The  New  Library  Moliere. 

TRANSLATED    BY    KATHARINE    PRESCOTT   WORMELEY, 
Translator  of  Balzac's   Novels. 

With  Preface  to  Moliere 's  Works  by  Honore  de  Balzac,  Criticisms 
on  the  Author  by  Sainte-Beuve,  Portraits  by  Coypel  and Mignard, 
and  decorative  Titlepages. 

Arrangement  of  the  Plays. 

The  Misanthrope ;  Le  Bourgeois  Gentilhomme. 
Tartuffe;  Les  Precieuses  Ridicules;  George  Dandin. 
Les  Femmes  Savantes ;  Le  Malade  Imaginaire. 
L'Avare  ;  Don  Juan ;  Les  Facheux. 
Vol.    V.     L'Ecole  des  Femmes;   L'£cole  des  Maris;   Monsieur 

de  Pourceaugnac. 
Vol.  VI.     L'Etourdi;   Le  Mariage  Force;   Le  Medecin  Malgre 
Lui;  La  Critique  de  l'ltcole  des  Femmes. 


Vol. 

I. 

Vol. 

II. 

Vol. 

III. 

Vol. 

IV. 

All  are  familiar  with  Miss  Wormeley's  admirable  English  version  of 
Balzac ;  and  we  know  of  no  greater  praise  in  behalf  of  her  recent  trans- 
lation of  Moliere  than  to  say  it  betrays  the  same  knowledge,  skill,  and 
insight  that  has  made  her  name  famous  among  the  lovers  of  high  liter- 
ature. While  it  is  undoubtedly  true  that  the  student  of  Moliere  would 
turn  by  preference  to  the  original,  it  is  equally  true  that  those  who  cannot 
read  his  works  in  their  native  form  are  now  indebted  to  Miss  Wormeley 
for  an  appreciation  of  Sainte-Beuve's  declaration  u  that  to  love  Moliere  is 
to  love  uprightness  and  health  of  mind,  in  others  as  well  as  in  ourselves." 
She  did  a  splendid  service  for  two  literatures  by  her  admirable  English 
rendering  of  the  author  whom  many  regard  as  France's  first  novelist,  and 
now  she  continues  by  an  equally  excellent  translation  of  the  works  of  the 
genius  to  whom  is  conceded  with  still  greater  unanimity  the  rank  of 
France's  first  dramatist.  And  by  a  happy  thought  Miss  Wormeley  avails 
herself,  for  the  presentation  of  Moliere  to  American  readers,  of  the  elo- 
quent tribute  which  Balzac  paid  to  him  in  his  preface  to  his  own  edition 
of  Moliere,  issued  in  his  younger  days.  The  translator  also  calls  attention 
to  the  singular  parallel  afforded  in  the  lives  of  the  two  writers.  These 
"fathers  of  the  'Comedy  of  Human  Life'  and  of  realism,"  she  says, "  died 
at  the  same  age  (fifty-one);  the  fame  of  both  was  of  little  more  than  fifteen 
years'  duration  in  their  lifetime;  both  died  of  the  toil  to  which  their  genius 
impelled  them ;  and  both  are  going  down  with  ever-brightening  lustre  to 
posterity." — Boston  Budget. 

I2mo.    Half  leather.    Per  volume,  $1.50. 


Orders  may  be  addressed  to 

LITTLE,  BROWN,  AND  COMPANY, 

254  Washington  Street,  Boston. 


Alphonse  Daudet  in  English. 

New  Uniform  Edition  of  the  Novels,  Romances,  and 
Memoirs  of  Alphonse  Daudet,  the  greatest  French 
Writer  since  Victor  Hugo.  Newly  Translated  by  Katharine 
Prescott  Wormeley,  Translator  of  Balzac's  Novels;  Jane  Minot 
Sedgwick,  Translator  of  George  Sand;  Charles  de  Kay,  and  others. 

Printed  from  large  clear  type,  with  Frontispieces.    Twenty  volumes. 
l2mo.    Cloth,  gilt  top.    $1.50  per  volume. 

Arrangement  of  the  volumes. 

Alphonse  Daudet.      By  Leon  Daudet.    To  which  is  added 

"  My  Brother  and  Myself,"  by  Ernest  Daudet i  vol. 

Fromont  and  Risler I  vol. 

The  Nabob 2  vols. 

Kings  in  Exile .1  vol. 

Numa    Roumestan .1  vol. 

The  Little  Parish  and  Robert  Helmont i  voL 

Little  What  's  His  Name 1  vol. 

Tartarin  of  Tarascon  and  Tartarin  on  the  Alps  .     .    1  vol. 

Port  Tarascon  and  La  Belle  Nivernaise 1  vol. 

Thirty  Years  in  Paris,  etc .1  vol. 

The  Immortal,  etc 1  vol. 

Souvenirs  of  a  Man  of  Letters  and  Artists'  Wives   .     1  vol. 

The  Evangelist  and  Rose  and  Ninette 1  vol. 

Jack 2  vols. 

Monday  Tales 1  vol. 

Letters  from  My  Mill,  etc 1  vol. 

Sappho 1  vol. 

The  Head  of  the  Family 1  vol. 


Of  the  brilliant  group  of  men  who  have  made  contemporaneous  French 
literature,  of  that  coterie  toward  which  the  eyes  of  all  the  reading  world 
have  been  turned  with  admiration  and  interest  during  the  last  half  a  cen- 
tury, Daudet  was  the  greatest.  He  was  the  most  universal,  the  most 
original,  the  most  human."  —  From  an  Article  in  The  Book  Buyer,  by  L. 
Van  Vorst. 

Has,  perhaps,  transferred  bodily  into  his  writings  more  actual  events, 
related  in  the  newspapers,  in  the  court-house,  or  in  society,  than  any  other 
writer  of  the  present  age.  Of  some  of  his  novels  one  hardly  dare  say  that 
they  are  works  of  fiction;  their  characters  are  men  and  women  of  our  time; 
they  do  in  the  book  almost  exactly  what  they  had  done  in  real  life.  —  Prof. 
Adolph  Cohn,  in  The  Bookman. 

He  is  a  novelist  to  his  finger-tips.  No  one  has  such  grace,  such  light- 
ness and  brilliancy  of  execution.  —  Henry  James,  in  The  Century. 

The  slightest  pages  from  his  pen  will  preserve  the  vibration  of  his  soul 
so  long  as  our  tongue  exists  imperishable.  He  is  the  author  of  twenty 
masterpieces.  —  Iimile  Zola. 


LITTLE,  BROWN,  AND   COMPANY,  Publishers, 
254  Washington  Street,  Boston. 


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